Unfinished Letters
by CopperKettle
Summary: Tutoring 6-year-old Gohan sounds easy enough, but Hana soon ends up with a LOT more than she signed on for. And to make matters worse, she might just be falling for the abrasive and intimidating Piccolo. What'll she do when she realizes he's falling for her too? (Eventual Piccolo/OC)
1. Chapter 1

A firm knock on the bedroom door startled Gohan out of a daydream. "Gohan," his mother called, "I brought you a snack to help you study. I'm coming in, okay?" He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the papers in front of him, all of them littered with doodles of dragons and giant fish and spaceships. Not a single one of his math problems were finished. The door opened just as he slid the heavy textbook over the pages.

"O-oh, hey, mom," he said, trying to sound casual.

Chi-Chi set carrot sticks and a glass of juice on the desk and stroked her son's hair. "Getting long again," she said with a sigh. "I'll find the shears and give you a cut before your bath tonight."

Gohan groaned and slouched in his chair. "But mom, I like my hair this way."

"You look so handsome when I cut it, though," she said, already snipping at the black strands with her middle and index fingers. "I know you didn't like the haircut I gave you before you left for Namek, but I'll give you a cool one this time. I promise."

Gohan had a suspicion that his mother's definition of cool wasn't going to be the same as his own, but after a resigned huff he said, "Sure, okay."

"So how's the schoolwork coming?" she asked. She moved before he could react, lifting the text book to reveal his hours worth of drawings. Gohan simply stared at the papers, preparing himself for the verbal onslaught. "WHAT IS THIS? Have you been neglecting your studies all afternoon? Gohan? Look at me! This is the third time this week you've slacked off like this, Gohan. What do I have to do to get you to care about your education, huh? Well?"

She caught a glimpse of Piccolo through the window as he took a seat beneath a tree in the front yard and waited for his pupil.

"You want to end up like him?" she continued to scream. "Some good-for-nothing hoodlum who might as well be a beggar? Who has no marketable skills? How much money do you think Piccolo makes in a year? I'll tell you – zero. He's dirt poor and he comes over here expecting a roof over his head and food on his plate. Well I'll tell you something—"

"Piccolo doesn't eat," said Gohan. "He drinks water."

But Chi-Chi didn't skip a beat. "And who pays the water bill for the water he drinks? We do, that's who! Nothing but trouble and inconsideration, Gohan. I don't know what you see in him but I hope you grow out of it soon. He's a bad influence."

"He's not, mom, really. You just gotta get to know him."

"I'd rather get to know a slug. A spider. Anything but him." She slammed her palm down on the math book and put a pencil in Gohan's hand. "You're finishing all of these problems before training with Piccolo, understand? I don't care if it's dark out by the time you're done."

Gohan nodded bleakly and Chi-Chi left, shutting the door forcefully behind her. He supposed he did bring it on himself, allowing his mind to drift off and get distracted. But ever since returning from Namek, things like schoolwork and studying seemed insignificant, meaningless. All he wanted to do was train his body, train to fight so he could help more effectively when the next threat arrived.

Piccolo lifted his chin and gave Gohan a questioning glance, but Gohan shook his head and pointed to his text book. The Namek rose to his feet and came to the window, leaning against the sill. "No training yet?" he asked, knowing full well there wasn't. It wasn't hard to hear Chi-Chi, especially with his ears.

"Not until I do my math problems."

"Gohan, you and I both know this is more important. Your father still hasn't returned yet. Vegeta is gone. You may just be the most potentially powerful person on Earth." Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "You need more training."

"I know I do, but my mom—"

"She can wait. If she takes issue with it, I'll talk to her."

Relieved that someone else might shoulder some of his mother's anger, Gohan hopped up from the desk and threw off his school jacket and trousers. He'd made himself another gi as soon as he got home from space, and this one was even better-sewn than the last. He tugged it on and turned to Piccolo for approval, posing with fists at his waist. "Do you like it?"

Piccolo smirked. "You're dressed like me, kid. What's not to like?"

.

* * *

.

The moon was out and bright by the time training ended for the day. Gohan couldn't help feeling a bit nostalgic for the year he'd spent exclusively under Piccolo's guidance. Every night sitting together by the campfire had been so peaceful—and even though his mother and father had been absent, in their place was a strange new friend and a blossoming sense of pride he'd never felt in himself before.

If schoolwork ever gave him the same feeling, perhaps his mother would be happier with him.

"She might be asleep already," said Gohan just outside the back door. "I kinda hope so. I don't wanna get yelled at."

Piccolo put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I'm coming in with you, remember? Open the door."

They slunk into the house and found the living room lamp still on. Chi-Chi sat on the sofa, mending a seam in one of Gohan's shirts. "Did you come home late because you thought I'd be in bed?" she asked. She didn't take her eyes off her sewing.

"M-Mom, I can explain what happened, I just—"

"I persuaded him to come with me." Piccolo stepped between them, his impressive shape blocking the lamplight. Chi-Chi put the shirt in her lap and glared up at him.

"Just where do you get off undermining—" She stopped, relaxed her fists, took a deep breath. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Since Gohan obviously is having trouble focusing on his studies, and I can't hover over him all hours of the day, I've come up with a plan."

Gohan peered around Piccolo's cape. "What do you mean, mom? What plan?"

"Oh, you'll see." Chi-Chi seemed rather pleased with herself and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tomorrow afternoon."

.

* * *

.

A clunky blue car pulled up to the Son house around noon. Chi-Chi was positively glowing with excitement as she leapt up to answer the doorbell. Gohan leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table to better see who was on the front porch. "You're here!" said Chi-Chi. "Thank you for agreeing to come at such short notice, but you're sorely needed. Please, please, come in!"

As his mother moved away from the door, an unfamiliar woman entered the house. She dressed casual and young like a high school student, though she must have been at least a couple years older than that if she was teaching professionally.

"Gohan, this is Miss Hana," said Chi-Chi. "She's going to be your tutor."

"Tutor?" Gohan got up from the table so he could bow properly. The woman, Hana, bowed back, brown hair spilling over her shoulders. And when she straightened up again and got a good look at her student's face, she lit up with a gasp.

"It's you!" She grabbed his hand in hers and shook him so enthusiastically that he nearly bounced. "I recognize you from the TV! You were there fighting those awful aliens that attacked the city, right? That was amazing. I couldn't believe how brave you were."

Gohan went a little pink. "Wow, thank you!"

Chi-Chi cleared her throat and fixed the two of them with an accusatory stare. "Miss Hana, I've hired you specifically to keep my son's attentions on his schooling instead of martial arts."

This time Hana bowed to her employer as deeply as she could muster. "I apologize. We'll get started right away." She turned to Gohan and slid her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. "I brought a lot of books with me, so I hope you're ready to learn. I'm certainly ready to teach."

"That's what I like to hear," said Chi-Chi. "Get started right away, you two. Hana, Gohan's room is just down the hall on your left. Work hard, okay? And in a couple hours I'll bring in some lunch."

"How kind of you, Miss Chi-Chi, thank you," said Hana. She laid a hand gently on Gohan's shoulder and led him down the hall and into the bedroom. "So, where would you like to set up?" She dumped the backpack from her shoulders and it hit the carpet with a floor-shaking thud. "And what would you like to start with? Biology? Math? Grammar?"

Gohan approached the backpack and peeked inside. "You mean you don't have a set lesson?" he asked.

"Nope. I think it works out better if the student does the dictating over what they learn and how they learn it."

He laughed a little. "Are you sure my mom hired you?"

She laughed too. "Aw, your mom's a walk in the park compared to some other mothers I've worked for."

"Really?" Gohan almost couldn't imagine mothers more demanding and overbearing than his own. "How many other kids have you taught?"

Hana thought for a second while counting on her fingers. "Well, I started tutoring right out of high school and kept going through college, so, let's see…ah, six. And you make seven. Lucky number seven!"

Gohan settled on grammar for the afternoon and they spent the better part of the lesson making up silly sentences and correcting them for spelling and punctuation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun with a text book present.

After lunch and a refresher course on nouns, adjectives, and verbs, Hana noticed Gohan's eyes routinely sweeping to the open window. "Y'know, I realize this is mostly stuff you know and it's kinda boring, but it's good to stay sharp," she said.

"Oh, sorry, it's not that." He looked at his watch. "It's just that it's almost time for Mr. Piccolo to come and get me."

Hana wasn't exactly sure what that meant. "And Mr. Piccolo is…a real person?"

"Of course," Gohan said with a chuckle. "My mom didn't mention him?"

"Nope." Now she was curious if the omission was intentional.

"We train together. I'm gonna grow up and be the strongest fighter in the world just like my dad, and he's helping me."

Hana leaned in closer to him. She wanted to ask this as delicately as she could. "Where _is_ your dad, anyway, Gohan? What happened to him?"

"Oh, he's still in outer space somewhere," was Gohan's casual reply. "We all had to fight someone really strong on a planet called Namek, and when the planet blew up he escaped the explosion and now he's on a different planet. I hope when he comes home he'll show me all the new moves he learned!"

Hana had way too many questions now. Why had they been on Namek? Who did they fight? How did Namek explode? How did Gohan know his dad was in space and not just dead? She knew better than to ask the latter, but the others had her imagination racing. The memory of Chi-Chi's death-glare, however, kept her from inquiring.

The sunlight disappeared from the room. Hana swiveled the chair towards the window and was met with an unfamiliar face. An unfamiliar…_green_ face. The broad-shouldered figure stood there silently, blocking the sun. Hana couldn't help staring at his turban and his flowing cape that caught the afternoon breeze. She wondered if he knew how menacing he looked. Of course he must have. Still, there was something awfully familiar about him.

"Mr. Piccolo, you're here!" Gohan hopped up and went for the purple gi already laid out on his bed. "Gimme just a sec, Mr. Piccolo, and I'll be right there."

"Wait, I recognize you," said Hana suddenly. "You were on TV fighting those aliens, too. Yeah, yeah, I definitely remember you."

"Gohan, who is this?" Piccolo asked, directing his question over her head.

"That's Miss Hana," Gohan replied. He tied the sash around his middle and slipped on a little pair of soft brown boots. "She's my new tutor."

Piccolo scowled and exhaled hard for added emphasis. "So that's Chi-Chi's plan, huh." He turned his back to the window. "Well, it's of no consequence. Let's get going, Gohan. We need to reach the valley before the sun gets much lower."

"Yes, sir!"

"No, stop!" said Hana, putting out her palms to keep her student from leaving. "You can't go now. We're not finished with today's grammar lesson yet."

"_Grammar_?" Piccolo whirled on her in anger, earning a startled cry. He slammed his hands down on the window sill and threw his imposing upper bulk into the bedroom. "If you saw the broadcast of our battle with the Saiyans, then you know just how important it is that we have capable people protecting this planet at all times. Right now, our greatest chance against a possible threat is lightyears away, and I refuse to just sit idly by and wait for his return. Gohan _must_ be trained."

Hana stood and slammed her own hands against the desk. "I understand that, it's just that I need to—to—" Her voice faltered as she felt her pulse thudding with panic in her chest. And Piccolo's unflinching stare wasn't letting up. "L-Look, sparring with you and avoiding schoolwork isn't going to help Gohan in the long run. He's a child. He needs an education."

"That's not my concern." Piccolo remained there, unmoving, arms folded in front of his chest. Hana might as well have been trying to argue with a slab of concrete. At least the concrete wouldn't have been as frightening.

She attempted a different approach. "Please," she said. "I'm a teacher. Let me teach my student. And after I'm done, which will be soon, I'll be more than happy to allow you both to train together."

Gohan nodded. "I suppose we can do th—"

"No. Let's go, Gohan. Now."

Hana grit her teeth. She'd never met anyone so stubborn in her life. Was he refusing to listen to reason on purpose? Had she done something to offend him already and this was his means of striking back? It just didn't make sense. But she had one more idea.

"You care for Gohan, don't you?" she asked.

Piccolo didn't uncross his arms, but something in his irritated expression seemed to soften. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sure you do," Hana continued. "It's clear you've been Gohan's master for quite some time. He even has a gi that matches yours. You can't stand there and tell me you don't have any affection for the boy."

This got much more of a reaction. A dark pink blush bloomed in the tips of Piccolo's ears just before he turned his back to the window. "What business is that of yours, anyway?" he snapped. "And for the record, I don't have 'affection' for anyone. He's my student. That's it."

Hana looked to Gohan, hoping that Piccolo's words hadn't upset him. But the boy just grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say that's just how his master was.

"He's your student," said Hana. "That's exactly it. Now he's my student, too. I want him to grow up and have opportunities at his disposal. He can't fight all the time. He can't train all the time."

"Why not? That's how _I_ live."

"And that's what you want for Gohan, too? Or don't you want him to become something better?"

For a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of papers fluttering on the desk. Hana's stomach tied itself into a series of elaborate knots as she anticipated more anger. At last Piccolo faced her again, but his expression was a mask of restraint. A wealth of unspoken curses clawed and chewed just behind pursed lips. "Twenty minutes," he said. "But that's it."

Hana heard him muttering under his breath as he left to sit beneath a tree and wait. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed into her chair.

"Are you okay?" Gohan asked. "I know Piccolo can be a little intimidating."

Hana grumbled but tried to sound amused. "A _little_?"

"Well…"

She opened her notebook, ignoring how her fingers were shaking. "C'mon, we've got twenty minutes. Let's make 'em count."

.

* * *

_._

_Thanks a bunch for reading - I appreciate it! Chapter 2 coming shortly._


	2. Chapter 2

The weeks that followed proved to be a great deal easier than that initial day. Piccolo didn't come to the window to fetch his pupil in the late afternoons, opting instead to meditate outside and cough sporadically to let Hana know he was still there and was not pleased with the situation. The time spent with Gohan was quickly becoming Hana's favorite part of the day. For being so young he was incredibly bright and grasped new concepts more easily than any kid she'd ever taught. And even aside from his brilliance, he was just fun to be around.

His mother was another story, but Chi-Chi, oddly enough, had taken quite a shine to her. Hana wished she could say the same. Still, she wasn't about to complain about being in her employer's good graces.

Chi-Chi found her so likeable in fact, or was perhaps desperate enough for company, that she invited Hana over early one morning for tea and sweet rolls before Gohan's lesson.

"No, Gohan's not home right now," said Chi-Chi when asked. "He's been doing so well during his tutoring sessions with you that I decided to let him train with Piccolo this morning as a reward. He promised me they'd be back here by noon, though, but we'll see I suppose. That Piccolo doesn't even own a watch, y'know. It's absurd."

Hana smiled around the edge of her teacup. It was beginning to amuse her just how often Chi-Chi managed to work slights against Piccolo into conversation.

Noon came and went. By the time it was quarter-to-one, Chi-Chi had lost her cool. "Unforgiveable. I can't believe they would do this. I give Piccolo an inch and he thinks he's a ruler. Just what is he playing at?" She huffed and went to the kitchen windows. "I swear, when they get back…"

"Where are they exactly?" Hana asked. "I could always drive over there and see what they're up to. Who knows, maybe something went wrong and they need help."

Chi-Chi snapped her fingers. "That has to be it! They're training in the valley just a few miles south of here. You go check that out, and I'll wait here just in case they show up while you're gone."

"Gotcha." Hana shoved another sweet roll into her mouth for the road and ran out to her car, waving goodbye as she drove off.

The drive took her down a dirt road that turned into more of a dirt path. It wound around the base of some wide mountains and then began to decline when she entered the valley. The landscape seemed like an ideal place to train. The terrain was level for the most part but littered with twisting rock formations and gatherings of trees.

She squinted through the windshield and kept an eye on the rear-view mirror. So far there was no sign of them. Maybe they went back to the Son house already. Hana put the car in park and got out to call for them and listen for signs of fighting. "HEY GOHA—"

A blast cracked through the air like lightning. It pierced the rocks nearby, fracturing the stone and exploding it outwards. Hana threw arms over her head and dove down by the bumper of her car. Glass shattered across her back. The car alarm screamed. Beneath her feet it felt as if the ground would give way. Hana wailed and covered her ears.

She wasn't sure how long it took, but finally there was silence.

"Miss Hana?" A hand on her shoulder. "Miss Hana." Arms helping her to stand.

Hana slumped against the hood of her car. Gohan was there beside her picking shards of glass from her hair. "What happened?" she asked. "What the hell was that?"

Piccolo answered from somewhere behind her. _"__Makankōsappō__." _He swept past, the soft fabric of his cape brushing her arm. "You shouldn't have come down here."

"You guys are late so I told Chi-Chi I'd find you."

"We're late?" This was news to Gohan. "Mr. Piccolo, did you know?" But Piccolo's reply was merely a frown and a growl.

Hana traced a dent in the hood, one of many. "Oh, my poor car."

Piccolo bristled and made fists at his side. "That's your own fault. You knew we were training. You can't expect us to notice—" He grimaced in disgust, turning his head away from her. "Tch. And now you're crying?"

She wiped her eyes, surprised when she saw the water on her fingertips. "Oh gosh. I-I'm fine. Really. Must just be the adrenaline wearing off." She tried to smile but wasn't terribly convincing as tears continued to roll down her face. "Super professional of me, right? Wh-where are my keys? I should go tell Chi-Chi you guys are okay."

"The car's not going to work," said Piccolo.

Hana froze with her hands in her pockets. "What? Why?"

"Even though it wasn't hit directly, it was close enough to the makankōsappō that I'm willing to bet its insides are fried."

"No, no, no." Hana hurried to pop the hood, staring then in disbelief at the coils of smoke rising from the battery and the various wires and melting hoses. "You gotta be kidding me. I just finished paying this off." She sunk to her knees in the charred grass and heaved an exhausted sigh.

"Mr. Piccolo can take you." Gohan glanced back and forth between the two adults. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind flying you to my house, and you can call a tow truck from there."

Hana lifted her head. "Flying? Me?"

"Yeah," said Gohan. "C'mon, Mr. Piccolo. It's the least you can do."

Piccolo was making a concerted effort not to look at her. "Fine. I guess we can't just leave her out here. On your feet, girl."

Slowly, hesitantly, Hana righted herself and rubbed the last of her tears from her cheeks. "All right, uh—" She walked to Piccolo's side, feeling small in his presence. It wasn't difficult considering his towering height. "How do you want to, um, carry me? I'm not picky, I guess. Whichever way works best for y—" He reached down, sweeping her off the ground in one dizzying move and holding her princess-style. He still wasn't looking at her.

A split-second later the three of them were airborne. Hana felt a sick drop in the pit of her stomach and her hair whipped around her ears. She grabbed fistfuls of Piccolo's gi, pressing her face into his chest. She didn't exactly care to see just how high up they'd risen. "Would you quit squirming?" he barked.

"I-I've never flown before," she shouted, half-muffled.

"Open your eyes and look. It'll help."

Hana let her eyes crack open as she craned her neck to see. There were clouds out in front of them. Rolling white clouds that stretched on forever. Below them everything rushed past so quickly. She recognized the dirt road she had driven earlier, though from up here it was so small it could hardly be discerned from the rest of the dirt. After a deep, calming breath she allowed herself to relax a little in his arms. His muscles flexed against her in response, keeping her secure and close. And now that she noticed it, she was so very, very close to him.

"That _did_ help," she said. "Thank you."

He made a low vocalization of acknowledgement in his throat.

The Son house appeared after a stretch of forest. Piccolo angled his feet down and descended hard. Too hard. Hana cried out again and her ears popped just as they struck the ground. "Ouch, that was rough," she said. Suddenly the arms around her fell limp. She dropped like a sack of potatoes at Piccolo's feet, rubbing her tailbone. "What was that for?"

With a showy sweep of his cape, he turned from the house and lifted into the air.

Gohan landed next to Hana and yelled up at his mentor. "Mr. Piccolo, wait! Where're you going?" But Piccolo had already flown away again. "What's he thinking? You okay, Miss Hana?"

Hana got up and wrenched her back straight. The image of Piccolo in the sky grew smaller and smaller until it finally vanished from sight altogether. She didn't understand him. Not in the slightest. "Yeah," she said. "But I think I need to sit down."

.

* * *

.

Hana sunk into the hot water until her lips were submerged. This was easily the strangest bath she'd ever taken, floating in a tall metal drum suspended over an open fire. Outside. In the back yard of her employer's home. Still, the birds were singing and the air carried the delicate scent of peach blossoms from the trees planted close by. The warmth of the afternoon sun beat down on the top of her head. Eventually, a pleasant calm slowly began to seep into her weary bones.

"Did he say he would pay for it?" said Chi-Chi, storming out the back door. She'd been ranting about Piccolo ever since Hana and Gohan returned from the valley.

Hana raised her mouth from the water. "For what?"

"For the tow truck. The damage to the car, too. It's entirely his fault. I can't believe he would just take off like that and leave you to pick up the pieces. Selfish, selfish man." She placed a towel and some clothing on the grass beside the stepladder that leaned on the drum. "I've got Gohan studying in the living room, so you've got your privacy, don't worry. We're the only house for miles."

"Thanks, Miss Chi-Chi. Sorry about this."

"You're not the one who needs to apologize. But I doubt Piccolo ever would. Never has before." She was quiet for a moment, the quietest Hana had seen her. There must've been quite a story in that silence. "Anyway, I'll let you soak. Your clothes should be dry in a few hours, but I gave you one of my robes in the meantime." She left then, sliding the back door shut and untying the curtains.

Hana plunged herself underwater and raked fingers through her hair. The dull roar of the fire underneath the bath echoed in her ears. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the sound, willing the rest of the world away. After everything that had happened earlier, it was nice to block it all out for a little while.

She soaked until the sticks in the fire burnt themselves out. The bath was already beginning to cool. Hana searched the area, investigating every shadow to ensure her privacy. Once she knew for sure the coast was clear she hoisted herself carefully over the rim of the drum and stepped down the short ladder.

She shook the excess water from her hair and wrung it out with the towel. Chi-Chi's robe fit comfortably enough, if not a touch snug at the waist. The intense floral pattern wasn't doing her any favors either. She tied the sash tight into a bow at her hip and picked up the towel to bring it inside.

"You," came a gruff voice from overhead. "Girl."

Hana jolted and looked up to see Piccolo there in the air. She pulled the robe tighter across her collarbone. "How long have you been there?"

He landed a few meters away. "I have no desire to see you undressed, if that's what you're implying."

She hated the heat that gathered in her cheeks. "Look, just say what you came to say so I can go inside and sit down. My back's killing me."

"I'm sorry. For dropping you."

Hana thought at first that she had misheard him. "Wh-what?"

An angry blush crept over the bridge of Piccolo's nose and once again he broke eye contact. "I'm sorry, all right? I won't say it a third time."

She rested hands on her hips. "Well, I must say, I'm kinda wondering what brought this on. Because Chi-Chi told me you never apologize for anything."

"Chi-Chi doesn't know me half as well as she likes to think."

Hana dredged up every foul word and phrase Chi-Chi had used to describe Piccolo in the last week alone. And yet, in spite of what Hana had assumed, here he was, saying sorry. "Hm. Apparently she doesn't."

Piccolo cleared his throat, changing the subject. "So how will you get home?"

"When I called for a tow truck they said the driver would be able to swing by and get me."

"Oh. That's good." Their eyes met for the briefest instant before he darted his away. "And, uh, sorry for saying it was your fault. Y'know. With your car."

"That's fine," Hana said with a laugh. "It wasn't your fault either. Just a weird accident."

"So we're on the same page, then."

"Seems that way."

Satisfied, Piccolo rose off the ground, but he hovered there for a moment longer. "I really didn't see anything. Wasn't trying to. Just want to make that clear."

"I know." And she did know.

"Good. By the way, you, uh, you look—" He chewed on the words, unsure if he wanted to finish that thought.

"What?" she asked as she tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear. "I look what?"

Piccolo crossed his arms with a snort. "You—you look ridiculous." And he rocketed into the clouds.

Hana shook her head at the sky and threw the towel over her shoulder. "Wow, what a jerk." Still, she couldn't help but grin. She got an apology, after all.

.

* * *

.

_Thanks for continuing to read, y'all! I'm still in the process of writing this story, but I'm a couple chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so the next chapter will be up in a few days to give myself a decent-sized buffer._


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks passed with little further excitement. The weather warmed as summer slowly started to overtake spring. Keeping Gohan's focus on his textbooks and lessons proved more difficult in the face of the increasing heat. Even Hana found her mind drifting in and out in spite of her best efforts.

Gohan put the book down in his lap and sighed. "It's too hot in here to read," he said. He stood and went to the window, closing his eyes and letting the breeze ruffle his newly-trimmed bangs. Watching him gave Hana an idea.

"Why don't we read outside, then?"

Gohan turned to her with a grin. "Can we really?"

They took some books and a picnic blanket from the hall closet and found a shady spot beneath a peach tree on a little hill beside the house. Gohan spread out on his stomach as Hana rested against the trunk. "What a beautiful day," she said. "It doesn't seem right to continue with _1984_ with this weather, does it? Why don't we pick _Walden _back up? Do you remember where we were? I think we were almost finished."

Gohan flipped through the novel and stopped on a page. "The beginning of chapter seventeen."

They read to each other, trading off paragraphs and stopping every once in a while to discuss what was written. Hana listened intently when Gohan read, making sure to help with a few of the more difficult words. ("Try to break it up and sound it out that way. Phe-no-me-na. Yeah, you got it.") It still amazed her that he was only six and already read better than she had as a teenager. And his comprehension was unreal.

Gohan was nearly done with a paragraph when he stopped suddenly and swiveled his head around, searching the area.

"What is it?" Hana asked.

"I feel Mr. Piccolo's ki, but I don't see him anywhere."

Hana laughed softly. "Haven't you noticed that he's been avoiding me? He barely says two words to me when I pass you off to him."

"How come? Are you guys mad at each other or something?"

"_I'm_ not," she said. "Who knows what his deal is."

Piccolo stepped out from behind the peach tree. "I'm not avoiding you." It was hot enough outside to keep him from wearing his heavy cape and turban. His neck and chest glistened with sweat as if he'd been training by himself moments before. Hana wanted not to stare…but stare she did.

"Come sit with us," she offered. "We're just finishing _Walden_."

"What?"

"It's a book. By Thoreau."

"Throw?"

"_Tho_reau."

Piccolo grumbled and eased down onto the corner of the blanket. "That's what I said." Gohan snickered and earned himself a dirty look from his teacher.

Hana took over where Gohan left off in the book. Between sentences she peered in Piccolo's direction just to see if he was following the narrative, but he appeared to be meditating instead. The wind was strong enough to sometimes flutter the antennae on his forehead, and she held back her giggles to keep from disturbing him. He already seemed in a foul mood. She had no desire to piss him off further.

"A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener," she read after Gohan completed another paragraph. "So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts."

The wind blew harder and whipped her hair into her eyes. She sputtered, her place in the book briefly lost. She wrangled her unruly mane and draped it down over one shoulder and, as she continued to read, went to work braiding it into something more manageable.

"We should be blessed if we live in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty." Hana noticed out the corner of her eye the way Piccolo was staring at her now. She made one last twist in her hair as he followed the movement of her fingers. Her eyes snapped back to the page. "We…we loiter in winter when it is already spring."

Piccolo made a slight sound of irritation. "What is this dreck?"

"It's a story of living out in nature. Living simply and honestly."

"I bet you'd like it if you read it," Gohan chimed in.

Piccolo hissed and wrenched his head stubbornly to the side. "Just finish the damn thing already."

After another chapter the book ended and Hana stretched her legs out nice and long on the blanket. Gohan looked like he wanted to take a nap. Piccolo had returned to meditation some time ago, though Hana wondered if that wasn't just a cover for falling asleep.

"It's time for your training, Gohan," said Piccolo a moment later as he got to his feet.

"Oh, all right." Gohan pushed himself up and cracked his knuckles.

"Have a quick snack first before you do," said Hana. She got up and reached for one of the peaches in the tree, but the branches were just out of reach. Piccolo effortlessly plucked two fat peaches from their stems and handed one to her and one to his student, both of whom thanked him. She sunk her teeth into the soft flesh and looked up at him. "Oh, are you not having one?"

"My kind consumes only liquid," said Piccolo. "Mostly water." He pulled a leather flask from inside his gi and sipped from it.

"May I have a drink of your water, sir?" Gohan asked. Piccolo handed him the flask. When Gohan passed it back, Piccolo offered it to Hana.

"You don't mind?" she asked.

He only shoved it further towards her until she took it and brought it to her lips. The water inside was cool and crisp. Much more delicious than any bottled variety she'd ever drank. She gulped down a few mouthfuls, brushing stray droplets from her chin.

"Thank you, Piccolo."

He snatched the flask from her and fumbled to re-cork it. "S-sure. C'mon, Gohan. Let's get some meditation and sparring in before it gets dark."

.

* * *

.

"We'll concentrate on physical attacks this afternoon," Piccolo said after they completed their meditation session. He'd been trying to hone Gohan's mental prowess lately. The boy could always stand to have more focus—this was Goku's son, after all. As for himself, he welcomed the momentary peace. Now he sunk into his personal fighting stance, twisting his body and putting his left shoulder forward and his weight in his back leg.

Gohan mirrored the pose. "Shouldn't we move further away from the house? We seem kinda close."

"This'll be fine for what we're doing today."

They were awful close, though—perhaps only a hundred meters from the tree where Hana was currently napping.

With her car's innards in ruins and no expendable money to fix them, she'd been taking the evening bus home. The nearest bus stop, unfortunately, was two miles down the road, and it only stopped there once a night. The whole thing was terribly inconvenient, but Hana seemed to take it all in stride and spent her extra time at the Son house cooking with Chi-Chi or planning the next day's lessons. And sometimes, like today, she napped.

Gohan dodged Piccolo's first strike. He swiped his elbow around but there was nothing there to hit. Piccolo was above him now. A flurry of fists drove at his face, his throat, his chest, but he bent his arms into defensive positions around himself and pushed back.

Piccolo didn't let up. As soon as he realized Gohan was defending with his arms, he kicked the boy's legs out from underneath. Gohan crashed hard into the ground and gazed up at his teacher.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "On your feet. Again."

They locked up, grappling for the upper hand. Gohan was small, yes, but he was strong. He grinned at his instructor. "So, you haven't told me what you think yet."

"About what?" Piccolo wrestled him into a headlock.

"_Nng_—Miss Hana, of course." Gohan mashed his heels into Piccolo's guts and tumbled to freedom.

Piccolo rubbed his belly with an aggravated grumble. "What about her?"

"Do you like her?"

The tops of his pointed ears purpled. "What does that have to do with anything?" He flew at Gohan again, slamming into him shoulder-first and sending him backwards into the dirt.

"I mean—" Gohan flinched as Piccolo pounded a fist deep into the gravel by his head. "—do you think she's a good teacher? Do you think she's nice?"

"Yes." Piccolo retracted his fist and pulled his student up by the collar of his gi. "And…yes. Your mother could've picked a hell of a lot worse."

A toothy smile spread across Gohan's face. "I knew you liked her!"

Piccolo snorted. "I don't like her. I hardly know her. Now shut up and surprise me with something 'cause I'm tired of knocking you on your ass."

"Fine, just lemme go pee real quick."

"Any foe you're facing won't let you take a bathroom break, Gohan."

But Gohan just shrugged. "Then I'll pee on whoever I'm fighting. I don't care."

That earned a rare chuckle from Piccolo, who nodded at the house and said, "All right, go on. I'll wait." He watched his pupil make a mad dash across the field and disappear through the back door.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Piccolo sighed and crossed his arms. Just what was that kid doing, anyway? Another minute. The wind picked up, rattling leaves and branches, and suddenly his attentions were swept up to the peach tree on the little hill.

Hana slept with _Walden_ still in her lap. Some of her loose unbraided hair and the lace hem of her sundress fluttered in the breeze.

"What are you even doing, Piccolo." He scolded himself and kicked a rock by his foot. It wasn't like him to dwell on something like this. He'd never seen the point before. Why now?

His mind occupied by faraway thoughts, he never heard Gohan return. Never heard the boy cry, "_Masenkō!_" Never saw the blast as it rushed at his head.

.

* * *

.

A sharp, piercing explosion woke Hana with a start. The book fell from her lap as she scrambled to her feet and searched frantically for the origin of the terrible sound. She didn't have to search for long.

Gohan was screaming out to her from the field some distance away. And beside him…

"Piccolo!" Hana bolted down the hill, through the tall grasses, and went down on her knees in the gravel. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Piccolo lay prone on his back, bleeding from his right ear and various cuts and scrapes on the side of his face and arm.

"I don't know," Gohan said, tremors in his voice. "I hit him with a _masenkō_. I-I didn't use a lot of power, but I don't think he tried to defend at all. I-I think he was distracted. I didn't think for a second th-that he wouldn't dodge it. I can never sneak up on him. N-never."

Hana gave the boy's hair a reassuring pat. "It was a mistake. It happens. It's all right, Gohan. Can you go and find his canteen for me?" With Gohan occupied, she focused now on Piccolo, examining his wounds. She was careful not to move him too much for fear of hurting him further in case any bones were broken. Did he even have bones? She thought for a moment. He must have bones. Unless he was built like a shark. Or worse, a sea cucumber…

Gohan brought the canteen and dumped half the contents over Piccolo's face.

Piccolo's brow creased as his eyes cracked open. "Mmn…ohh. Did I…fall asleep while you were reading?" he asked. The words seemed take great effort. Gohan and Hana shared a look of concern.

"No," said Hana, "that was over an hour ago."

"Wh-what?"

"It's all right, it's all right. You just got hurt." She cradled his head gently in her hands, checking his pupils for anything strange. "Can you move at all? Can you move your legs?"

Piccolo bent his legs at the knees. "Yeah."

"Oh good, good. We should get you inside. Gohan, can you give me a hand?"

Between her height and Gohan's strength, they were able to help Piccolo onto his feet. Hana slung a heavy green arm across her shoulders and Gohan, hovering, took the other arm. When they got him inside the house they put towels at the head of the sofa and eased Piccolo down. "I'm fine," he continued to insist, though the words had begun to slur.

Gohan fetched a first aid kit and Hana set to work cleaning the blood from Piccolo's face. "I guess I'm a tutor _and_ a nurse today," she said, trying to lighten the mood with zero effect.

She pressed an alcohol pad against the injured skin and Piccolo winced. "I don't need a…a nurse," he growled. "Just lemme…lemme…" He seemed to lose his train of thought and get frustrated at himself.

Hana gave his chest a reassuring pat. "Hey, don't force anything. Just take it easy for now, okay? We'll take care of you."

She thought, for a moment, that she heard him whimper.

"Is Mr. Piccolo gonna be okay?" Gohan stood bravely by his master's side, though there were tears clinging to his lashes.

"It's a concussion for sure," she said. "But if he relaxes for a couple days he should get better."

Gohan allowed himself to cry a little. "Thank goodness."

Hana took care in bandaging the deep abrasions at Piccolo's temple and then they let him sleep a while. She was a bit surprised that, as big as he was, he didn't snore. In fact he barely made any noises at all, and she woke him a couple times just to make sure he was still capable of being roused.

Chi-Chi came home with groceries as it started to get dark. The sight of Piccolo sprawled over her lovely sofa almost caused her to drop the bags. "What's going on?!"

"I injured him during training, mom," Gohan said, eyes downcast. "He's gotta rest."

Chi-Chi looked to Hana, who nodded. "Well, I guess that's fine then. For now. But he's not sleeping over here. He can go to the Lookout if he needs to. Let Kami deal with him dirtying up _his_ nice furniture."

Halfway through dinner there came the dull clap of far-off thunder. Hana popped a dumpling into her mouth and went to the window. "Oh, those're some nasty-looking clouds headed over here." She frowned at her watch. "Hour and a half until I need to be at the bus stop. I don't suppose I could borrow an umbrella?"

Chi-Chi seemed scandalized. "You'll borrow no such thing! If a storm's rolling in, I can't very well send you out there into who knows what. You can absolutely stay here tonight. I'll even make up the guest bedroom."

Hana put her hands up in front of her. "Oh gosh, no, I can't put you out like that."

"Nonsense, I insist."

"I'll take her home," came a low voice from the darkened living room.

Gohan choked on his juice. "Mr. Piccolo!"

Piccolo pushed himself up from the couch. He leaned in the kitchen doorframe, his skin ashen and beaded with sweat. "If I'm going to Kami's tonight anyway, I might as well just drop her off."

Hana brought him a glass of ice water. "You can't overexert yourself right now."

"You think flying will overexert me? You think I'm that frail?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But nothing. Finish your food and let's go before it starts pouring on us."

Hana crammed another dumpling between her teeth and went to gather up her books and papers. When she returned to the living room the lamps were on and Piccolo was dressed in his turban and cape again. Gohan gave her a hug and tried to give Piccolo one as well but was brushed off as usual. She watched Piccolo as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. Was he having balance issues or was it only her imagination?

He noticed her eyeing him and bristled. "I'm fine. Do you have your things?"

Hana jiggled her backpack. "Yep."

"Where am I taking you?"

"Like the street address?" she asked.

"No, just describe it."

"Oh. Down by the coast about twenty-five miles south. There's a neighborhood just below a big white windmill."

"I know the place," he said.

"Really? Um, I'm the one-story blue house on the west edge."

"Not a problem."

Chi-Chi opened the front door for them, but once Piccolo walked through she took hold of Hana's wrist and kept her back. "Is this really what you want? You can still stay the night."

"It's cool," Hana said. "I trust him. Thank you, though, Miss Chi-Chi."

After some hesitation Chi-Chi let her go, said goodbye, and closed the door.

The rain was already starting to come down in cold little pinpricks. Moonlight caught on each drop as it fell from the sky. Hana wished she could stay outside and watch what would surely be a gorgeous rainstorm, but her skin was breaking out in goosebumps and she shivered in her sundress. Piccolo, made even more menacing by the approaching lightning, turned his back to her and swept his cape aside.

"Grab on."

"To…your back? Are you sure?"

"You want to stay dry, don't you?"

Hana approached him and curled nervous arms around his middle. The act felt strangely…intimate. Immediately she could feel his ribs expand and contact as he heaved a sigh. His body was so warm, the fabric between her fingers so soft. When he covered her in his cape she let her eyes fall closed. It was like a cocoon, snuggly and quiet and safe from the cold. She buried her burning cheeks against his back, hoping he couldn't read minds.

He spoke and his voice was a tremor across her skin. "Hang on."

.

* * *

.

_You have my continued thanks for reading! Expect the next chapter towards the end of this week. It's currently Spring Break and my work schedule is a little hectic, so I hope I'll have some time at least in the evenings to write. I appreciate all the reviews and kind words - I actually wasn't expecting much since I've really only been writing this for myself, so I assumed only I would care about it. But I'm pleasantly surprised!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Let go."

Hana's arms were stiff and cold by the time they landed in front of the porch. Unlatching them from his waist proved difficult, and her elbows ached as she rubbed heat back into the joints. Flying had been less frightening this time around, though she had still clung to him for dear life the entire flight. She'd barely even let herself breathe.

She stepped out from his cape, glad to be on solid ground, and looked up at his rain-spattered face. "Oh, you're soaking wet." The storm had since left the coast, but they'd flown right through it getting there. "Come in and get dry for a minute."

She fished her keys from her backpack and went to unlock the door. Piccolo remained at the bottom of the porch steps, one hand firmly on the banister. "That's all right. I-I need to leave for Kami's any…anyway, and—_nng_—"

Hana turned from the open door just in time to see him collapse onto the stairs. "Piccolo!" She tried to help him up in spite of his insistence that he was perfectly fine. "C'mon, you're coming inside and that's that. You're still hurt." His weight was unreal. There was so much solid heft to him. And she could tell he was fighting hard not to lean all of it against her.

The waterlogged cape and turban were left on the porch, which made supporting him a little easier. By the time Hana managed to get Piccolo inside, though, he was trembling. She bade him to sit at the kitchen table where he slumped, half-conscious, and held his head.

"Do you need something?" Hana asked. "Let me get you something, okay? Some water?"

He nodded. "Hot."

She returned to him with a steaming mug. Piccolo nursed it slowly until the shaking ebbed from his muscles. An awareness of his surroundings showed on his face and he tugged at the damp gi that clung to his abdominals. "I'm dripping all over your kitchen floor."

Hana laughed it off. "Doesn't matter, it's just water. You look a little better, though. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine now." Piccolo stood with the table's assistance. "I-I should get going." He took a step from the table, however, and his legs crumpled uselessly beneath him. Hana caught him, surprised she could even keep him upright. He wrestled away from her and sat back in the chair. His shoulders sagged. His breathing was shallow.

Somewhere between the fall outside and the fall inside, the wounds on the side of his head had been reopened. A bright patch of fresh purple blood bloomed on the bandaging. "Ohh, you hurt yourself again," Hana said. She tried to tilt his head to see better, but he shied from her touch.

Piccolo's gaze settled on the tabletop. "I'm…sorry about all this."

"No, no, don't be." Hana began to unpeel the wet bandages. "I'm just glad I can help. And I'm glad you didn't take off for Kami's Lookout right away. You could've plummeted right out of the sky. I never would've forgiven myself." She found the first aid kit in the pantry and set to work redressing the gashes at his temple. Piccolo hissed through clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol stung him for a second time. Hana blew gently on his injured skin. The muscles in his jaw relaxed, the sting subsiding, and a faint blush passed over the tops of his ears.

"Nice trick," he said.

She wrapped him up good as new and turned her attention to the puddle spreading across the floor. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes or you'll catch cold."

"I…don't think I catch colds."

She eyed him skeptically. "Well, regardless, you'll be better off dry. I might still have some clothes that my ex never came and got. He was kind of a big dude so his stuff might fit y—" A bright flash of light like a camera bulb cut her off mid-word. She shielded her eyes, and when the light faded she couldn't believe what she was looking at.

Piccolo, hand pressed to his sternum, was dressed in something completely different. Now he wore a long tunic of muted marigold and white linen pants that gathered loosely around his ankles. In his other hand was his folded gi and, sitting on top, his shoes.

When the initial jaw-dropping shock wore off, Hana closed her mouth and grinned. "Now _that's_ a nice trick." She wanted more than anything to ask how on earth he did it, but she figured he wasn't in an explaining mood. Regardless, it was fun to see him in something new for a change.

She hung up his wet clothes in the laundry room to air dry. Her fingers grazed the delicate fabric, tracing the seams along the legs, finding long-worn holes and grass stains. He really wasn't accustomed to changing outfits often, was he. Gathering up fistfuls of his gi, she buried her nose into the fabric and breathed in deep. His heady, earthen scent curled itself like burning incense through her brain. He smelt of rich soil after a rainstorm. And of freshly-cut grass. And something different, something enticing and far-away, something that must have been unique just to him.

For one secret, guilty moment she found herself wondering how he might taste.

"Don't be silly," she whispered into the cloth.

From the living room there came a shattering crash. His gi forgotten, Hana bolted to see what had happened. Piccolo was on his hands and knees—beside him, the remnants of a tall standing lamp that had stood alongside the couch. Now, it lay crooked on the hardwood floor, its light bulb in a zillion pieces.

Piccolo stared up at her. "I broke your lamp."

"Are you hurt?" Hana went to him, mindful of the broken glass.

"Thought I could make it to the couch. Lost my balance."

"But are you hurt?" she repeated. He seemed a bit disoriented. She took his hands in hers and searched them for cuts, but he was all right. "Thank goodness."

The skin of his hands were rough and calloused and yet oddly soft. There was such power there in those hands, even in his weakened state. She couldn't help but compare her fingers to his. His knuckles were twice the size of hers.

"What're you doing?" he asked, bringing her back to reality. Her thumbs were following the lines of his palms.

"Sorry," she said. She pulled hands away, embarrassed for herself. "Can you stand? I'll help you to the couch."

.

* * *

.

The fireplace roared to life as Hana threw on another log. Piccolo sat on the sofa, toasty and safe. He sipped on second mug of hot water. It appeared to be doing him a great deal of good as far as his strength and cognizance were concerned. And his color was returning to normal. Or, at least, normal for him.

Hana warmed her hands and sat back to admire her work. She couldn't remember the last time she'd put a fire on, but it seemed appropriate tonight. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had company. She'd forgotten how pleasant it could be.

Piccolo's head lolled back on the sofa and he closed his eyes.

"How're you feeling?"

"Better," he replied. "Tired."

"I've got a second bedroom. You're welcome to it."

He grumbled a little. "Couch'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"It's just that the bed in there's a lot softer than—"

"I said the couch'll be _fine_."

So he was back to his same bristly self, was he? Hana got to her feet and smoothed out her dress with a few sharp swipes. "Y'know, I think I liked you better when you were loopy and breaking my lamps."

He suddenly looked dreadfully uncomfortable. "I'm sure you did." He felt the bandages at his temple and sighed. "Look, I'm not accustomed to this type of situation, all right? And having to be doted on is irritating."

Her shoulders softened. "I'm only trying to help."

"I know. I don't…like help. And I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, I-I just—_mhhn_…" Piccolo winced and pressed a hand to his brow. "Guess I'm not as improved as I thought…"

Hana took the mug from him and found him a pillow from the hall closet. "Try and lay down," she said. "See if that helps."

"Yes, nurse." He had said it sarcastically but her cheeks still reddened.

When he was settled and resting his eyes, Hana set up shop at the kitchen table with a few of Gohan's assignments she had yet to grade. As usual, he aced each one. She reminded herself to step up his course material. He'd need high school-level work at this rate.

"What are you doing over there, anyway?" Piccolo asked after a while.

"Grading some of Gohan's stuff. Am I keeping you awake?"

"Wasn't exactly trying to sleep," he said, adding, "He's a pretty smart kid, huh?"

Hana laughed. "Kinda brilliant, actually, yeah. I've never tutored a kid so smart. A few more years and he won't even need school anymore, he'll be teaching himself from college text books."

"His mother will be pleased to hear that."

Hana's red pen stopped over a worksheet. "She does have very high hopes for him, doesn't she."

"Oh, I've heard it a thousand times. 'Great scholar' this and 'great scholar' that. I just wonder if Gohan's opinions on the matter are ever factored into her grand projections of his future. Every time I see him studying he looks miserable." Piccolo paused for a second and cleared his throat. "Not lately, though. Not with you."

Hana fiddled with the pen cap, beaming as her cheeks pinkened. "Good, I'm glad."

They lapsed into silence and she continued to grade. Eventually she heard deep, slow breathing from the darkened living room and figured he had finally fallen asleep. The clock on the wall by the back door read quarter-to-midnight. It was probably time to pack it in and call it an evening. She put away the papers and got up to turn off the lamp.

Her cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. The number was—

She hurried to answer it. "Miss Chi-Chi?"

"No, it's Gohan."

"Gohan? Are you all right? Why are you calling so late?" Her worry made it difficult to keep her voice quiet.

"I can't sleep. I keep thinking about Mr. Piccolo up there on the Lookout all by himself. Do you think he's okay?"

Hana smiled and clutched the phone. What a sweet boy. "I know he is. Because he's right here on my sofa and he's fine."

"H-he never went to the Lookout?"

"Nope. I thought he'd be better off just resting here tonight."

"Are you guys having a sleepover?"

"Kinda, yeah."

Empty air followed. Hana was just about to ask him if he was still there, but then he said in an awfully concerned tone, "Are you guys kissing?"

A rush of adrenaline shot up her spine. Was she in high school all over again? What even was this? "What?" she asked in an attempt to play it cool. "Why would you think that?"

"That's what happens on TV, right? When a boy and a girl have a sleepover together, they kiss each other."

Hana sometimes had to remind herself that, while he was in fact brilliant, he was still a six-year-old boy. This was one of those times. "That's just on TV," she said. "In real life it's a lot more boring. So don't worry. Isn't it past your bedtime, anyway? Like, _way_ past?"

"I'm going, I'm going."

After they wished each other a good night, she hung up. Her heart was thudding in her ears and in her fingertips.

"What did Gohan need?" asked Piccolo from the living room, giving her a bit of a scare.

"Oh, god. I thought you were asleep."

"Is Gohan all right?" he insisted.

"Yeah, he was just worried about you." She hoped he wouldn't ask about the rest of the conversation.

Piccolo snorted. "He gets that from his mother."

Hana still hadn't let go of the cell phone. Her palms were sweaty. "Do you need anything before I go to bed?" she asked. There was a tremor in her voice that she hoped he didn't notice.

"Nah."

"Okay." She slipped through the living room, but paused at the mouth of the back hallway and looked over her shoulder at him. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, illuminating his reclining form just enough to see his general shape in the shadows. He really was much too big for the couch. He should've been sleeping in the guest room, but she supposed he was too polite or prideful to accept the offer. Still, there was something endearing about a man of his size sleeping on such a little sofa. She smiled at him, thankful he couldn't see her face. "Sleep well, Piccolo."

"Same to you."

Later, as she rolled herself up in the bedsheets, she realized she hadn't stopped smiling.

.

* * *

.

By the time Hana woke and got out of the shower, Piccolo was gone. In fact there was no trace that he had ever been there at all. His gi and shoes were taken from the laundry room. The damp spots on the porch where his turban and cape had been were dry. Even the pillow he used was put back where it came from.

There was something sobering about early morning light, something Hana had never grown accustomed to. Everything just felt unreal in those soundless hours.

She padded across the tile to the fridge, taking a yogurt cup. She ate it slowly while leaning against the counter. Her eyes strayed to the empty sofa in the other room. She wasn't sure what she had expected this morning.

As she went to toss the cup in the trash, she noticed something bright yellow in the bottom—half a dozen crumpled post-it notes. She fished them out and spread them on the marble countertop.

On each note, he only made it a few letters in before scribbling everything out. It wasn't even clear to her what he had intended to write. There was even a hole torn in one of them from the force of the pen.

Was it the concussion? Perhaps he was worse off than she'd previously guessed.

Or was it some other reason? Some reason she wouldn't even allow herself to consider? Her conversation with Gohan replayed in her mind. Perhaps it had been the start of some great confession of love, but part-way through he'd recognized his error and disposed of the evidence. She shook her head with a tired laugh. It was much too early to be daydreaming.

Still, she wished she could understand the notes, glean some information from the scratched-apart letters. What had he tried to say to her? Why didn't he finish?

Why was it bothering her so much?

.

* * *

.

_Many thanks for reading this far! :D Next week my schedule is pretty open so I'll have lots of time to write - expect the next chapter sometime in the next 3 or 4 days, if all goes as planned. There's a big party in the next installment - all our favorite Z-friends will be there!_


	5. Chapter 5

Even a few days after that morning the post-it notes had not left Hana's mind. During every idle moment, her brain would churn into overdrive, turning each square of paper around and around, still attempting to make sense of it all. And she would've asked Piccolo except that she hadn't seen him in days. But he was around and she knew it, as evidenced by Gohan's absence immediately following his lessons.

Hana sat in the kitchen of the Son house one evening as she waited to walk to the bus stop.

"A party? Tonight?" She nearly laughed out loud. It was the last thing she expected to hear from Chi-Chi, but she was glad to. Anything to distract her from Piccolo.

Chi-Chi, elbow-deep in dishes, sighed and shook her head. "It wasn't my idea, trust me. It's my husband's old master, the turtle hermit, who's throwing it. Apparently everyone's going to be there. Of course Gohan's got his heart set on going, and I suppose it's been about a year since I've seen most of them, so I told him we can go for at least a little while."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," said Hana. "I hope you two have a nice time."

"Well, I was also going to ask—would you like to come?"

"Me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I won't know anyone there."

"You know me and Gohan. And Piccolo if he shows up." Chi-Chi didn't seem especially pleased at the idea of Piccolo being there. Even Hana, at the mere mention of his name, felt a nervous jump in her stomach.

"You really think he'd go?"

Chi-Chi dumped more plates into the sink louder than she probably should've. "Oh, who knows with him." She tightened her apron strings. "So, what do you say? Want to come?"

Hana chewed her lip. A party would be an awfully big distraction. Lots of new people to take her mind off things. She looked down at her clothes, now lamenting her early morning decision to pair jeans with an old sweater. "I'd love to go, Chi-Chi, it's just—I'm not really dressed for it."

"That's all right." Chi-Chi was grinning as she turned from the sink and took Hana by the arm. "You can borrow something of mine."

.

* * *

.

Hana wasn't sure this was better. During the entire air-car ride she couldn't help but fiddle with the puffy sleeves of the dress and tug awkwardly at the neckline. Everything seemed just a bit too snug, a bit too revealing. And she was going to meet strangers in this dress. God, she was going to see Piccolo in this dress, wasn't she. The thought made her sweat.

"You look nice," said Gohan from the back seat as if sensing her discomfort.

"Thanks."

"Don't be nervous," Chi-Chi said. "This bunch is harmless. Idiots, but harmless."

They flew across the water for miles and miles, on and on into the coming sunset. Just as Hana was starting to wonder if Chi-Chi was lost, a small island appeared on the horizon. A few other air-cars were already parked on the shoreline. Palm trees were lit up with strings of blue lights, and paper lanterns were hung up around the roof of the bright pink beach house. KAME HOUSE was scrawled in red paint over the door.

Hana eased slowly out of the car to keep the dress from hiking up and fixed her hair in the side mirror. She'd tried to make herself look presentable before leaving the Son residence, but it just wasn't happening for her tonight. Her bangs were too unruly and her hair felt limp and lifeless. Now she was _really_ hoping Piccolo would be a no-show.

The front door burst open and a woman maybe her own age with long teal-colored hair waved over at them. "Gohan! Chi-Chi! You made it!" She sprinted to the beach and smothered Gohan in a rib-crushing hug. "Ohh, it's so good to see you, short stuff."

"Y-you're squeezing me, Bulma."

Bulma caught sight of Hana and started to giggle. "Gohan, I think this girlfriend of yours might be too old for you."

Gohan went pink. "She's not my girlfriend, dummy."

"She's his tutor," said Chi-Chi just a bit pointedly.

"I'm Hana," she said with a brief bow, wary of the neckline of her dress. "Chi-Chi invited me."

Bulma was all smiles. "Well, I hope you came hungry 'cause we've got stuff on the grill that's almost done. Come on in, you guys! Everyone else is already here."

Inside, Hana was met with a handful of strangers—and also, surprisingly, faces she recognized. She remembered them, just as she remembered Gohan and Piccolo, from the broadcast of the Saiyan battle the previous year. There was Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, and Chiaotzu. It was easy enough to recall their names, they'd been all over the news and the papers following the attack.

Except…wait, no, this wasn't right. Three of those men were dead. She'd seen in happen live on television.

"Uh-oh," said Yamcha, pointing to her, "I know that look."

Hana wrung her hands together. "I-I don't understand what's happening. You were dead. And you. And you." She looked to Tien and Chiaotzu.

The old man, Master Roshi, smirked from behind his mug of beer. "So you don't know about the dragon balls, eh?"

"The dragon balls—wait, like the old folk tale?"

"The very same," he replied.

"Except they're real," Krillin added.

Hana glanced down at Gohan, hoping he would let her know if this was all an elaborate prank. But the boy only nodded in earnest. God, so it was true. She supposed there were stranger things in the world—an old green man that lived in the clouds and served as God, for instance—but still, to think that the dragon balls were real and not just a children's story…it was unreal. She wondered how many other people knew, or if she were now privy to some confidential information. Except it couldn't have been _that_ confidential if they just came right out and told her.

Shrugging it off, Hana introduced herself properly to everyone and bowed her head low.

Piccolo was nowhere to be seen. She felt relief untying the knot in the pit of her stomach. Bulma offered her a drink but she opted for soda instead. Getting tipsy in view of her employer and student didn't sit too well with her.

Various finger-foods were laid out on the table, and Hana helped herself to a heaping plate of cheese and crackers. She shoved a few bites into her mouth. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was. Master Roshi poured some drinks and Puar flew around the room to deliver them. Bulma raised her cup into the air with a, "Cheers!" and everybody drank.

"I can't believe it's been so long since we've gotten together like this," said Yamcha, reclining in his chair, boots on the coffee table. "It's kinda funny that so much has happened and we've been through so much, but all of us are still pretty much unchanged, y'know?"

Bulma scoffed at him and messed up his hair. "Leave it to you to die and come back to life and say nothing is different."

"And, dude, speak for yourself," said Krillin. "You lousy bums might be the same, but I've got a girlfriend now."

Yamcha rolled his eyes into the next province. "Really? We hadn't noticed."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Tien said to Maron. "It's been very nice getting to know you."

Maron grabbed Tien in an overly-affectionate hug. Hana couldn't help but notice how she pressed her cleavage against him. Neither could Krillin. "Aw!" the girl squealed. "Tien, you're such a sweetie. Krillin has the cutest friends."

Krillin's face was radioactive pink. Tien's wasn't faring much better.

"So, Gohan," said Bulma, changing the subject, "how's your training going?"

"You seem a lot stronger," Chiaotzu chimed in, and Tien, now recovered, nodded his agreement.

Gohan popped the cap off a bottle of soda. "It's going great! Mr. Piccolo's a lot stronger, too, so I've been able to improve faster than I ever could before. I've been trying to learn his _makankōsappō _technique, and I think I almost have it, but it's really difficult."

"I'm positive you'll get it in time," said Master Roshi. "You're your father's son, after all. You could probably master any moveset you wanted to."

"You really think so?"

"His studies are also going well," Chi-Chi snipped. "Hana says he's reading at a 10th-grade level. Isn't that right, Hana?"

Hana hadn't expected the conversation to swing around to her so soon. All eyes turned to her just as she crammed an undignified amount of cheese and crackers into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed down a gulp of her soda, nodding her head as she tried not to choke. "Y-yes, he's coming along swimmingly. I keep saying he'll end up teaching me eventually." She laughed a little but no one else seemed amused.

"I forgot, you can't expect this lot to care about such things," said Chi-Chi. "Bunch of uncultured swine."

"Hey!" said Oolong. "I resemble that remark!" This time, everyone laughed.

The conversations continued on and Hana was content not to be featured in any of them. It was entertaining enough just to listen in. Maron seemed to be out of the loop as well, and the two girls ended up sitting beside each other on the window seat making small talk. She was sweet enough, albeit a little ditzy and forward, and she smelled overwhelmingly of flowery perfume. The two of them talked favorite stores, makeup tips, ex-boyfriends—petty, entertaining talk that Hana usually didn't get a chance to indulge in. Maron was especially knowledgeable about fashion and spent a good ten minutes describing her ideal wedding gown down to the specific types of crystals sewn into the lace of the train. Hana hoped Krillin knew what he was getting into with this girl.

Eventually Bulma stuck her head in the house and declared that food was ready. Everyone hurriedly migrated outside to the long picnic tables. The sun was nearly set and the lights in the palm trees shone even brighter than before. Plates of chicken and ribs glistened with caramelized sauces. There were bowls upon bowls of baked beans, coleslaw, biscuits, even grilled corn on the cob.

Hana wolfed down an entire plateful and went back for seconds. Across the table, Master Roshi grinned toothily at her and adjusted his sunglasses. "My, my, if there's one thing I like to see, it's a girl with a hearty appetite!"

Bulma laughed. "She's too old for you, Turtle Hermit."

"So are you," he said, "but that doesn't keep me from trying."

Yamcha snickered and Bulma jabbed him in the arm with her fork.

When everyone began to slow down and fill up, Krillin banged a knife on his glass. "Before we finish eating, I think we should stop for a minute and think of the guy who can't be here with us. Goku, whatever you're doing up there, wherever you are, you better come back to us in one piece, you hear me?" He shook his knife at the night sky.

Chi-Chi clasped her hands. "Yes, Goku, we love you very much, and we're waiting as patiently as we can."

Hana gazed up at the emerging stars as the gathered friends echoed Chi-Chi's sentiments. She wondered if she would ever get to meet this Goku, or if he would ever return to Earth at all. She thought of Gohan and the father he missed every day. And she hoped the absence would somehow be worth the tears she now saw gathering in the boy's eyes.

Sudden music from the boombox pulled her from her reverie. Bulma turned up the volume and grabbed Yamcha and started to dance. "Yeah, Bulma's got the right idea," said Krillin, dabbing at his eyes. "Why the long faces, guys? Goku would want us to be celebrating. C'mere, Maron!"

Hana tapped her feet and grinned, watching these colorful strangers make fools of themselves on the beach. The alcohol was starting to kick in apparently. She almost hoped someone would ask her to dance. Maybe Tien. He seemed the shy type, though, and she wasn't exactly feeling her most confident either.

Someone tugged on the sleeve of her dress. "Oh! Yes, Gohan?"

"He's here," the boy said, low enough so only she could hear. "I can feel his ki."

Hana leaned in closer. "Who?"

"Mr. Piccolo."

He might as well have punched her in the gut.

Standing up from the bench, Hana made some weak excuse about needing to find the bathroom and fled into the empty Kame House. Inside it was dark, the only light coming from the palm tree lights through the windows. She checked her makeup in the mirror and raked fingers through her hair. It was quiet. There was space to breathe and collect her thoughts. Why couldn't her heart just stop pounding for a second?

There came a sound just outside the back door. She stopped dead. It had clearly sounded like a person's voice. She cracked open the door and slunk through to the empty side of the island. The only noise that greeted her was the gentle lapping of the ocean waves as they dragged across the shore.

She listened for a little while and then, content that it had only been her imagination, turned to go back inside.

"It's you." His voice raised goosebumps along her arms. Out from a gathering of palm trees came that familiar mantle and turban. It was too dark to see his face until he approached the blue neon sign above the back door.

"Piccolo," she said, tugging up the neckline of the dress, "um, hi." Of course it had to be him.

"I had a feeling you might be here."

"Chi-Chi invited me last-minute."

He studied her carefully, pressing his lips together. Hana thought he might make a comment about the dress, but instead he buried his face into the crook of his arm and sneezed. So_ that_ was the sound she had heard. He recovered and puffed out an irritated breath.

"I thought you said you didn't catch colds," Hana said, trying very hard not to crack a smile.

"It's not a—I'm not sick." He grimaced, flustered. "It's that woman Krillin brought with him."

"Maron?" And then it clicked. "Oh, her perfume. Yeah."

"That stuff is terrible," he said, punctuating himself with another gruff sneeze.

This time Hana did smile. In spite of the sneezing, he looked well—much better than the last time she'd seen him. His color was back in full force and the wounds on his head were almost entirely healed. It was incredible what only a few days could do.

"What?" he barked. "What're you smiling at?"

"Sorry, it's just…good to see you."

His scowl softened.

Hana played with the ruffles on the dress. If only she didn't feel quite so much like a sausage forced into its casing, maybe she would've had the guts to tell him just how much she'd missed seeing him lately. Or how often he'd been on her mind. Or how handsome he was under the blue lighting. How had she never noticed the chiseled angles of his cheekbones until now?

"Aren't you going back to the party?" Piccolo asked, breaking the lengthy silence. "I'm sure the last thing you want to do is stand around staring at me all night."

"Oh. Yeah." She shifted on her heels. She wanted to wait and see if he'd make a move to follow after her. "What about y—"

Piccolo sneezed again, loud enough to scare some birds out of the trees.

"—you." Hana bit down on her lip to keep from giggling. "_Bless_ you."

"Pft." He was blushing. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute. I need to…get myself sorted out."

"All right." Hana curled her fingers around the doorknob, but paused before pushing it open. She had to bring it up, had to say _something_. And this alone time might be her only opportunity for days, weeks even. "By the way, about the other night…"

He just stared.

"It was…nice. Having you over like that. Next time you should stick around and let me cook you breakfast."

Piccolo frowned. "I don't—"

"Oh. You don't eat. That's right. My mistake." Hana let out a little self-depreciating laugh. "Still, you didn't have to go so soon."

"And leave in broad daylight?"

"Why not?"

Now Piccolo's ears were beginning to purple. "Don't neighbors start rumors about that sort of thing?"

"What, am I supposed to be embarrassed about having a friend over to my house?"

"A…friend?" he asked.

Hana mentally backpedaled like her life depended on it. "I-I mean…aren't we? I just assumed. We've known each other for almost two months, right?"

Piccolo seemed to be chewing the word over in his mind. She could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, and her heart flopped helplessly between her ribs as she waited for him to speak. Finally he crossed his arms and said, "I really have no use for friends."

"Oh." She hoped the disappointment wasn't showing on her face. "W-well, that's okay. We don't have to—"

"But," he continued, "I made an exception for Gohan. And I suppose I can make an exception for you."

And there it was—a grin. An honest-to-goodness grin. Right there on his gorgeous green mug. It was there and gone in a flash, but wow, what a flash.

"Friends, then." Hana held out her hand, hoping he might take the cue. After a second's hesitation, he clasped his hand around hers, giving it one firm shake before letting go. His skin was warm, and her palm was warm where he touched her. "A-after all," she said, "us teachers have to stick together, right?"

He grunted in agreement.

Hana couldn't keep her eyes off of him now. His entire being seemed transformed in the wake of that fleeting grin. His lips…how had she never noticed them before? They were smooth and sculpted and olive green, darker than the leaf green that colored the rest of him. And as she stood there, transfixed, she watched as he wet those lips with a pass of his tongue—his _purple_ tongue.

She gulped.

Suddenly all she could think of were the notes he crumpled in her garbage can. She knew so little about him. So much of him was hidden below the surface, purposefully left vague, and those post-it notes were the perfect example. He had obviously wanted to say _something_, but decided to take it back, to keep it inside, a secret.

"Listen. Piccolo." Hana squared her shoulders, prepared to ask. "There's something I've been wondering about for the last few days."

The door behind her swung open, startling her into silence. Krillin popped his bald head outside. "Oh, there you are. We were worried you got lost or kidnapped by a mermaid." He chuckled and then saw Piccolo there, towering over him and glaring as usual. "Piccolo. You're here too."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "I am."

"Gohan's out front, y'know. You should come join us."

Maron bounded up behind Krillin. She threw her arms around his neck and smooched his ears. "Krillin, come dance with me some more!" Hana could smell the perfume again and she heard Piccolo sneeze behind her.

Krillin was pink all over and he stuttered, "A-all right, Maron, I'm coming." He let himself be dragged back into the house.

Hana went to follow after them, but Piccolo said, "Wait."

"Hm?"

"You wanted to ask me something."

Her mouth opened, hung open long enough for her to take a breath, and then closed again. She'd lost her nerve. "Oh. No, it's not important. Never mind. Let's go see Gohan." She smiled, hoping he would let it go.

He did. And when she turned to go inside, he ducked under the doorway and trailed soundlessly behind her.

.

* * *

.

_The party continues in the next chapter! Thank you SO MUCH for reading - y'all are the best. Next chapter should be up by the end of this weekend!_


	6. Chapter 6

The night rolled on and the party showed no signs of disbanding. Master Roshi had wheeled out the karaoke machine while Hana was talking to Piccolo, and now Puar and Oolong were singing sappy duets, belting out notes together into the lone microphone. Drinks were downed quicker than new ones could be mixed up, though Hana still had not indulged. By ten-thirty, Chi-Chi was itching to leave and told Gohan to say his goodbyes.

"But _mom_…"

"No, Gohan, we've already stayed much longer than I planned. And it's your bedtime now. So come on, get ready to go."

The boy groaned and kicked the sand. "Fine." He found Piccolo sitting beneath one of the palm trees and got a farewell pat on the top of his head.

Hana watched them from far-off, wishing she could listen in on their conversation. She always wondered what those two spoke about when no one else could hear.

The boy dragged his feet as he took his place at his mother's side. Chi-Chi hugged Bulma and said goodbye to Master Roshi. "It was so nice to see all of you," she said. "Thank you for thinking of me and Gohan. We appreciate the kindness."

Master Roshi held her hand in his and squeezed. "Like always, Chi-Chi, if you and your son need anything, just let us know. It can't be easy not having Goku around to help."

"It's been all right," she said. "I have Hana to help Gohan with his studies. She even helps me cook and do chores in the evenings. And Piccolo…well, he's always around."

"That has to be strange," said Bulma, acting out a little shiver. "He still kinda gives me the creeps sometimes."

Chi-Chi puffed out a weary breath. "I guess I've gotten used to him. He's more of a nuisance than anything, really. But I suppose if anything were ever to happen—if someone should attack the house, Kami forbid—it's good that he's close by."

That was the highest praise Hana had ever heard Chi-Chi give to Piccolo. And even then, it wasn't much.

Chi-Chi turned to her. "Are you coming with us, dear? Or were you planning to stay?"

"Um…"

"Mr. Piccolo can take her home if she wants to stay," said Gohan.

"I-I guess maybe he can, yeah," Hana replied. "I should go ask him if that's all right." But as she turned to find him, she nearly bumped right into his stomach. How long had he been waiting there for her?

"It's fine," he told her. "Just tell me when you want to go." And he went back to the palm trees and sat down to meditate, though not before stifling another sneeze. Hana's eyes lingered sympathetically on him for a moment longer. He didn't have to stick around. Gohan was leaving and he could've left too. Getting a ride home from Krillin or Bulma would've been easy enough for her. But no, Piccolo was opting to stay.

Chi-Chi got Hana's things out from the air-car and helped Gohan with his seatbelt ("I can do it myself, mom!"). When they were ready, the two of them waved goodbye for the last time and sped off towards home.

Master Roshi returned to the karaoke machine, but Bulma sidled up to Hana. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

Bulma's face brightened. "Just what I was hoping to hear. Wanna split a bottle of wine?"

"That…sounds really great, actually."

.

* * *

.

The two girls retreated into the house and found a quiet spot at the kitchen table. Yamcha had insisted on showing off a new sparring technique, but Bulma wasn't interested. Outside the window they could still hear the stereo and Krillin and Chiaotzu talking excitedly to each other. Hana thought it polite to invite Maron to join her and Bulma, but Bulma quickly hushed her up. "I've had to listen to that pipsqueak talk all afternoon," she said. "I will seriously lose it if I have to hear about her dream wedding dress one more time."

Though it felt a bit rude, Hana agreed.

Bulma popped a bottle of chardonnay and they got to talking. She wanted to know how the Sons were dealing with Goku's absence, how Gohan was doing, even what Piccolo had been up to. And Hana asked everything she could about Goku, the dragon balls, and what happened on Namek. The more Bulma drank the more animated her stories became. It was like watching a one-woman play. Her anecdotes had everything—intrigue, humor, tragedy, drama, romance, handsome aliens—and she even tried to do voices, though not very well.

When her Namek story was over, she poured herself a third glass. "Are you slowing down already?" she asked. Hana had barely touched her second, but she already felt lightheaded.

"My ex always used to say I was a cheap date."

Bulma made a face. "Ex-boyfriend, eh? What's the story there? Who broke up with who?"

"I broke up with him."

"Atta girl."

Hana laughed and took a sip. "It wasn't anything dramatic. We just weren't right together."

"Ah, bedroom troubles," Bulma said with a wink.

"No, nothing like that! I just—I wanted more from the relationship than he was willing to give. I guess in the end I kinda had enough and let him off the hook. It's been about a year now, I think."

Bulma lifted her glass. "A toast to kicking little boys to the curb." They clinked and drank.

"But anyway, what about you and Yamcha?" Hana asked. "You guys are dating, right? I mean, you seem pretty close, so I just assumed."

"Yeah, I guess we're dating. I can never tell with him. Don't get me wrong, I love the stupid idiot, and I'm happy he was wished back. I just have this weird feeling like something's changed between us and I can't put my finger on what it might be." Bulma shrugged and swirled her glass around. "Eh, it bores me just to think about it. What about you? Is there someone new you've got your eye on?"

"Hardly." Hana felt her cheeks getting red, as if they weren't already red from the wine. "When I'm not tutoring, I'm grading or sleeping. I don't really have much opportunity to meet new guys."

Bulma pondered this for a moment and then said, slyly, "You met a new guy tonight."

Hana already knew what she was getting at. "Tien? I dunno, he seems sweet enough, but—"

"Do you think he's cute?"

For the second time that week, Hana was getting high school déjà vu. "Well, sure, but Bulma—"

"Then it's perfect, right? C'mon, I'll tell him you think he's cute, and then you can ask him to dance, and then I just know you guys will—"

"No!" Hana yelped, grabbing Bulma's wrist. "No, no, please. There _is_ someone I've got my eye on, all right? But I feel dumb enough about it already, and I don't want anyone to know. Just please promise me you'll keep it to yourself. Chi-Chi probably wouldn't be very happy with me if she knew."

Bulma's eyes widened and her red lips pulled up in an excited grin. "Oh my god. You like Piccolo."

"_Yes_." Hana buried her face in her hands.

"This is the greatest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. Does he know?"

"No. And he never will because I'm never going to tell him."

"What?! Why?"

"Because there's no way on earth he likes me back. I mean, yeah, he said I was his friend, but I don't think for a minute that he could—"

"Woah, woah, woah." Bulma put up her hands, a look of absolute shock on her face. "He said you were his friend? His _friend_? He actually said that to you?"

Hana nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Girl, he might as well have just proposed to you. Do you have any idea how he operates? He has one friend. One. Gohan. He treats the kid like his own son. He's laid down his life for him. So for Piccolo to call you his friend…" Bulma heaved an awesome sigh. "Wow."

Hana chugged the rest of her wine and stared miserably at the table. "It sure doesn't feel that way. I still get this impression that he barely tolerates me."

"Have a little more confidence in yourself. Here, I'll help." Bulma emptied the bottle into Hana's glass.

"Thanks."

"C'mon, enough with the glum face. Drink that up and let's go dance or something."

Hana managed a grin. "Okay."

.

* * *

.

Yamcha shifted his weight in the sand. "Your left foot should be further out," he said to Krillin, who was mirroring his pose across from him. "And then you swing your other foot over like this." He demonstrated.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, yeah, you got it. But your shoulders should be facing _this_ way…"

Master Roshi noticed Hana and Bulma rejoining the group and lowered his sunglasses at them. "Up to no good, eh, ladies?"

"Looks like drinking and gossiping to me," said Yamcha, earning himself a swift kick in the shin.

"So what if it was?" Bulma spat.

Hana sat at the picnic table and helped herself to a slice of watermelon, watching the couple argue.

"Are you having a good night?" came a voice from beside her. It was Tien, taking a seat. In the lights from the trees and the flames of the tiki torches, his three eyes glowed so strangely.

"I am, actually, yeah."

Puar and Oolong finally hung up their microphones and bowed to spattered applause. Had they really been singing karaoke for that long? Oolong flipped the stereo back on and changed it to something mellow. Tien rubbed his arms and Hana felt his weight shift on the bench. He really did have quite the handsome profile, with his square jaw and pointed nose. And his biceps were out-of-this-world ridiculous…

Chiaotzu popped up in between them and tugged their sleeves. "Neither of you have danced yet," he scolded. "Don't you think it's about time?"

Hana and Tien looked at each other.

Chiaotzu yanked them off the bench with surprising strength and pushed them towards the music. "Well go on, go on!"

Tien had gone completely red-faced. "I-I don't—_Chiaotzu_—"

"Hey, no worries," Hana said, taking his hand. "It's a party, isn't it? So why not? Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

For being a martial artist, and a damn good one at that, Tien sure couldn't dance to save his life. He kept stepping on her toes and fumbling the footing, and they weren't even dancing anything complicated. Master Roshi and the others gathered round, watching the two of them plodding through the song. Hana just laughed, which probably only hindered his concentration, but she couldn't help it. He was an absolute trainwreck on the dance floor.

When he ground his heel into the top of her foot, she stopped laughing and started wailing. "Owww ow ow!"

"Oh—shit! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I-I'm sorry!"

Hana held onto his shoulders and bounced on her good foot. "Not your fault! Oww ow."

"Nice goin', Tien!" said Yamcha through cupped hands. "Instead of fighting Nappa, you should've just asked him to dance."

Tien bristled. "Remind me again how _you_ died?"

"How dare you."

An angry baritone cut in. "What are you children bickering about now?" Piccolo descended on the scene with a dramatic billow of his cape. He surveyed the situation and settled his attention on Hana. "Are you all right?"

She realized she was still clinging to Tien and let go, balancing gingerly on one foot. "Oh sure. Just a bruise."

Piccolo frowned. "You're bleeding, actually."

"Am I?" Indeed, she was. Tien must have tore the skin with the heel of his shoe.

"I'm really very sorry," said Tien. "Here, let me help—"

Piccolo shoved him aside and swept Hana up in his arms. "I'd sooner trust you with a houseplant," he sneered, and he turned from everyone and carried her into the house.

"Really now," said Hana, "you're making an awfully big fuss. It's not that bad." Piccolo sat her down on the window seat and left to fetch a few things from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, he knelt down in front of her, slipped off her shoe, and began to tend to her injured foot.

He said nothing as he worked, cleaning the blood from her skin.

The rubbing alcohol stung and Hana flinched. "Mmn." But as she watched, Piccolo parted his lips and blew on the wound just as she had done for him. She wanted to say something clever but no words would come.

He tore a length of gauze bandaging and wrapped it carefully around her foot. His hands were slow as he tended to her, his movements practiced, patient. Kind.

"My feet actually look small in your hands," she said, amused by the sight.

"Your feet _are_ small," he replied. "Your everything is small."

She wasn't sure if he meant that as a compliment, but that was certainly how she was going to take it. At the moment she felt anything but small. Sitting the way she was, the dress pinched into her sides and stomach, and she had to press her thighs together to keep from flashing him. Why on earth did Chi-Chi even own this dress? It was nothing but a nuisance.

Piccolo tied off the bandages and Hana wiggled her toes. "You really didn't have to do this, y'know," she said. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she greeted his gaze with a smile. "But…it's nice that you did. Thank you."

"Only returning the favor."

Hana got up and tried to put weight on the foot but it was still too sore to support her. "W-woah." She forced her hands down on Piccolo's caped shoulders to keep herself upright. "Sorry, just gimme a sec."

"Take your time." His voice was oddly quiet and comforting.

The pale light from outside rested on his stoic face. Those three glasses of wine coursing through Hana's bloodstream were giving her awful ideas. How simple it would've been to just lean forward and press her lips to his…

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Hana tested her foot again. She was ready this time and leaned most of her weight on the other leg. "There we go. That's better."

Piccolo rose from his knees, watching her hobble experimentally around the room. "Would you like for me to take you home now?"

She glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen counter—it was nearly midnight. "That's probably a good ide—_oof!_" She tripped on her backpack left by the sofa and fell ass over teakettle onto the carpet. The walls spun for a second and then she was fine. Her dress, however, was not. She'd managed to tear the skirt seam all the way up her thigh to her hip. "Oh no!"

Piccolo went to her and kept her from trying to stand just yet. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, just my pride," she said. She held the rip closed around her thigh, mortified beyond belief. "And maybe my dignity a little. Man, look at this dress, though. Chi-Chi's gonna be so upset."

"Well at least now you have an excuse to change into something else." The weird relief in his tone made Hana raise an eyebrow at him. His ears went purple. "Err, I didn't mean—you don't look—"

"No, that's okay," she said with a tired laugh. "I'm well aware that I look like twelve hams in a trash bag."

"It's not…_that_ bad." He scratched at the back of his head, staring the dress down. "But how about this?" Before she had a chance to ask him to finish his thought, he pressed two sturdy fingers to her breastbone. Light exploded from his fingertips and engulfed her in warmth, tingling and bright. She knew that light. And when it faded, she stopped squinting and immediately checked the dress, expecting to see the tear repaired. What she saw instead was quite different.

"Oh my goodness…"

The dress was pale green and soft and covered her shoulders and arms and knees. Around her middle was a pastel pink sash which matched the small patterns of flowers that bloomed along the skirt. She had never worn anything so lovely in all her life. She traced the blossoms and felt along the decadent lace sleeves, her vision misting over.

"Is this one acceptable?" Piccolo asked.

All she could manage was a reverent whisper. "It's beautiful."

"Then it suits you perfectly."

Her eyes went to his face. This time there was no mistaking the compliment. "Thank you, Piccolo. I…needed that tonight." She smiled softly, giving his knee an affectionate pat.

He gulped. His ears were blushing again. "Hana—"

The front door opened and both of them yelped. Hana pulled her hand from Piccolo's knee just as Krillin and Maron came inside. Krillin had both his arms wrapped around Maron's waist and the two of them were giggling like high school sweethearts. "How's it going in here?" he asked. "What're you guys, uh…doing?"

"Ooo, looks private," Maron said coyly.

Piccolo hurried to his feet and shoved through the two lovebirds to get outside.

"H-hey!" Hana called after him. She stood with some effort and went to the door, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Had he already left so fast?

Krillin huffed. "Well what the heck was _his_ problem?"

The moon and stars were all Hana could see in the sky. She looked from one to the other, hoping to catch a glimpse of his white cape in the moonlight in spite of her mounting despair. He didn't seem to be returning any time soon. "He's a jerk," she said, shoulders sagging. "_That's_ his problem."

Krillin chuckled under his breath. "That's not exactly news to me."

Hana kicked a seashell by her foot. "Me neither." She kept a lookout for another moment or so before turning back to Krillin and Maron with a sad, embarrassed grin. "And unfortunately, that jerk was my ride home."

.

* * *

.

The air-car touched down at the curb in front of the little blue house on the coast. The streetlamps cut through the late-night fog. Bulma set the parking brake and peered into the back seat at her passenger. "Home sweet home," she said. "Pretty cute place you got here."

"Thanks," said Hana, and as Yamcha got out to open the car door for her she gave her thanks a second time. "I appreciate the lift. It was really nice to meet you guys tonight. I had a lot of fun."

Yamcha gave her a too-rough pat on the back. "Us, too. Hey, if we ever all get together again sometime, consider yourself invited. Give Tien a chance to redeem himself on the dance floor." He laughed and it echoed across the empty cul-de-sac.

"Deal," said Hana. She fished her keys from her purse. "Thanks again, you two, truly. Sorry you had to go so far out of your way. Let me run inside real quick and I'll grab you some gas money."

"No, no!" said Bulma. "Wouldn't dream of it. If anyone should be paying for anything, it's Piccolo. It's not your fault he bailed."

"I guess…"

"And hey," Bulma continued, fixing her with a meaningful stare, "try not to get too discouraged, okay?"

Hana felt hot pinpricks at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled and willed them away. "I'll try. Thanks, Bulma."

Yamcha looked between the two girls and scratched at the nape of his neck. "Am I missing something? Are you speaking in code?"

Bulma let out an exasperated groan. "Don't worry your pretty head, Yamcha, just get your fine ass back in the car."

Hana waved goodbye to them and went to unlock the door. When she made it inside, the house was black and soundless. She stepped out of her shoes and left her purse and backpack in the hall. Her feet carried her to the sliding glass door past the living room and out onto the wooden deck.

She leaned on the railing. It was good to be home. Resting her chin on her palm, she gazed out at the wide expanse of dark ocean beyond the shoreline.

Even after taking Bulma's words to heart, she couldn't help but think she was partially to blame. Maybe she'd been too forward with Piccolo, got under his skin a little too much. She probably would've driven him off regardless of whether or not they were interrupted.

Piccolo was big and stern and imposing, but get too close and he was gone—like approaching a stag in the wild.

For a long time, she watched the water and felt sorry for herself.

"Just another guy you're gonna chase away in the end," she said, letting the distant crash of the waves swallow her voice. "Can't ever pick the easy ones, can you."

The sound of shifting tile came from the roof. Hana craned her neck to see, but it was too dark to make out anything. She chalked it up to sea gulls or the strong winds moving in from the south. She shivered, rubbing her arms, and went back inside to get ready for bed.

.

* * *

.

Piccolo stood with shoulders flush against the chimney. She'd nearly spotted him.

He let go of a held breath, fists forming at his sides. "Coward. Just go say something to her." But he couldn't bring himself to move, nor could he stand to leave. He felt pinned, frozen in place, out of control. His discipline was slipping. "What the hell's the matter with me…"

.

* * *

.

_THANK YOU for reading! Apologies for updating much later than my projection. I was battling writer's block and tonsillitis at the same time. My job has me working closely with children, so unfortunately I do tend to catch the odd germ or two from them. I'm mostly recovered now and am writing fine again. I hope the next chapter will be finished by Sunday - wish me luck!_


	7. Chapter 7

Gohan sat quietly beside his master, pretending to meditate. Every sound distracted him—the babbling of the stream in front of them, the breeze in the trees, the chirping birds. What should have been a peaceful afternoon felt anything but. The boy cracked open an eye and peered at the water, longing to be swimming instead of…whatever this was meant to be.

"Close your eyes," Piccolo barked. "Focus for once in your life."

"Yes, sir."

Since the night of the party, Piccolo just didn't seem the same. His patience, typically thin at best to begin with, was practically nonexistent now. There was no softness to him, no leeway. Gohan couldn't fathom what might have happened, though he had a few hypotheses.

Hana, too, had been out of sorts following the party. Not visibly, of course. She still smiled the same, laughed the same, taught the same. But an overwhelming _something_ poured off her body in waves of negative ki that were impossible to ignore. Gohan sometimes felt similar projections from his mother when she was especially upset, though Chi-Chi usually kept her ki in check, having been trained as a child. Hana, however, seemed unaware of her output. Gohan had been meaning to bring it up after their lessons, but Piccolo saw to it that there was no wasted time between tutoring and training.

Gohan stretched his legs out in front of him. "May I ask a question, sir?"

"No."

"But I won't be able to concentrate until I know the answer."

Piccolo glared his student down. "What? What is it, Gohan? What could possibly be _so_ urgent that you just _have_ to know it this instant?"

"What happened between you and Miss Hana?"

With a grunt of surprise, Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest. "That has literally no bearing on your ability to meditate."

"But—"

"The end, Gohan."

"Okay…"

Piccolo brooded for a moment, grumbling low in his throat, his jaw clenching. Finally he tore the turban from his head and heaved an irritated sigh. "What, did she say something to you?"

"She didn't have to," said Gohan. "She's real sad, I can tell. And she's been this way all week. And you've also been—"

Piccolo narrowed his eyes.

"—uh, tougher. Than usual."

"Good save."

"It's just that I'm putting it all together," said Gohan, "and it looks like something happened. Are you guys fighting? Did you yell at her or something? You're not supposed to yell at girls."

Piccolo looked scandalized. "I wouldn't—I didn't yell at her." Gohan wasn't sure he believed him. "Stop looking at me like that. We're not discussing Miss Hana anymore. I'm done with the topic."

They settled back into their meditation poses, falling into an uneasy silence. Gohan watched Piccolo turn the turban over in his hands and wind a loose thread around his finger. He wished his master would just open up. Why did adults have to make everything so hard?

"Y'know, she probably wants to talk to you."

"Gohan." A warning.

"She's not gonna bite your head off, sir. Whatever happened, just apologize."

"_Gohan._"

"I mean, don't you like her?"

"THAT DOES IT." Piccolo grabbed Gohan by the scruff of his neck and hurled him into the stream.

Gohan splashed and sputtered, climbing up on a big mossy stone, clothes drenched. He couldn't help the victorious smile on his face. "I knew you did," he said. He shook his hair out like a little black dog. "You should tell her!"

Piccolo was on his feet now, adjusting his turban. "This is the end of our training session. If you won't take this seriously, I won't waste my time. Train yourself for the rest of the week and see how much you improve on your own."

"H-hey!" Gohan leapt to the other bank just as his master rose off the ground and flew away. "You can't do that!" But he was already gone.

.

* * *

.

Hana read quietly to herself as she waited for Gohan to finish his math problems. She hadn't read _Jane Eyre _since high school but for some reason she felt drawn to it again. It was wordy and hefty and dramatic, perfect for getting lost in, perfect for forgetting your troubles in.

"Miss Hana?"

Mr. Rochester's gruff indifference hit a little too close to home. Perhaps that was it. She hadn't spoken to Piccolo since the party. She'd had the opportunity—it wouldn't have been difficult to interrupt Gohan's training, but all the same, she couldn't. She just couldn't. Her eyes searched the pages of the book, hoping to glean some phrase of courage from Jane, to be inspired into action.

"Miss Hana!"

Hana jumped in her chair. "Oh, Gohan." She put a sheepish hand to her forehead. "Sorry, I don't know where my head's at today. Did you finish already?"

"Yup." The boy handed off a page of completed equations. "I think I've got the hang of algebraic fractions now."

Hana snuck a quick peek at his work, noting his correct answers. "Wow, I'll say. These are all right. I guess we can start moving on to bigger and better stuff, huh?"

"Yeah, sure."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Gohan? Aren't you excited?"

He made a grin appear on his face. "Uh-huh. Sorry, just thinking about something else."

"Well, all right. I suppose you can run off to your training now if you'd like. It's just about that time."

Gohan didn't move. "That's…what I'm thinking about. Mr. Piccolo cut me off for the rest of the week. Doesn't wanna train me."

"What?!" Hana closed her book and sat forward. It didn't seem at all like Piccolo to leave his student like that. "I still remember him getting mad at me about how important your training is, and now he's just…quit?"

"Just for the week," said Gohan. "I think it's because I embarrassed him. He got pretty angry."

_That_ seemed more like Piccolo. "What on earth could he have gotten so embarrassed about?"

Gohan laughed a little. "I tried to get him to apologize to you."

Hana's fingers curled reflexively around the spine of _Jane Eyre_. "He told you what happened?"

"No. But he's been acting meaner ever since Master Roshi's party. And your ki is putting out all kinds of negative energy. So I just assumed."

Her ki? Hana didn't even realize she had a ki, and he knew what was it up to. The kid was too astute for his own good. After a lengthy sigh, Hana let her shoulders slouch. "He left me at the party. I had to get a ride from Bulma and Yamcha."

"But I thought he said he'd take you home."

"He did." Hana grumbled. "I dunno. I guess he got scared off. But…I was having a really nice time hanging out with him up until that point."

Gohan's hands tightened into fists. "Then I'll try even harder to make him apologize!"

Hana gave the top of his head a pat. "You're very sweet, Gohan, but really, you don't have to trouble yourself with it. It's something we'll deal with ourselves."

"But—"

"You go on and start your training and I'll be out in a minute to watch you. Maybe you can show me a bit about how ki works."

The idea lit up Gohan's eyes with excitement and he reached for his gi.

.

* * *

.

The air at the Lookout was thin and cold. Dark clouds rolled soundlessly somewhere beneath the temple, twisting into one another and lighting the sky with flashes of lightning. Everything always felt so distant from the edge of the Lookout. Piccolo wondered how Kami managed to keep interested in the goings-on of the planet below when there was such an obvious disconnect.

"Out here again, I see," Kami said.

Piccolo glared over his shoulder. "What's it to you?"

Kami put up a defensive hand and smiled. "I'm simply curious when you'll be returning to your eager student. It's been three days now."

"Gohan's been just fine."

"But have _you_?"

Piccolo snorted an aggravated "pfft" and turned back to watch the storm clouds.

Kami continued. "This absence of yours isn't related to something else, is it?"

"No."

After a beat of silence and another flash of lightning, Kami spoke again. "Because I'm willing to bet you can't bring yourself to face Hana."

"So you're spying on me now?"

"It's hardly spying when you're God."

Piccolo swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. He'd been attempting to avoid any thought of her. Out of sight, out of mind. But no matter how hard he tried she kept slinking back in along the periphery of his consciousness, like sand in his shoes. "She has nothing to do with this," he said. Kami gave no reply, which only goaded Piccolo on to keep talking. "I don't have anything I need to say to her, all right? It's just…it's done with. I bet I already screwed it up. It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" Kami asked.

That awful feeling in the pit of his stomach was back. Or perhaps it never left. Piccolo licked his dry lips, unable to answer.

Kami shook his head like a weary father. "Piccolo," he said, "do you honestly think your affection for her doesn't matter? How very sad."

Piccolo whirled around. "I don't have—" But Kami had vanished. "—affection…for her." The words felt wrong in his mouth. And hearing them aloud put new strain on his insides. He wished he could vomit up everything about her and be done with it.

He eased down the trunk of a palm tree. Closed his eyes. Meditation had been a chore as of late, taking every ounce of his concentration. A deep spiritual drain had taken the place of the usual sense of refreshment earned from a good hour or so of reflection. If he could just quiet himself now, just focus on what was important in the long run, surely he could overcome this mental challenge.

Yes, he thought, just picture her as a challenge. Picture her—

_—pressing her face into his chest as they flew from the valley—_

_ —delicate fingers braiding her wind-tossed hair—_

_ —her hand on his knee, a soft smile—_

His eyes snapped open.

There would be no meditation tonight.

.

* * *

.

The storms from the last few days finally let up, leaving deep puddles along the sides of the roads leading into the city. From the bus window, Hana watched the passing trees and then, gradually, the passing buildings. Downtown was grayer than usual but still bustling with people, and Hana took a deep breath in preparation of the crowds. The bus rolled to a stop just shy of the shopping district. Most everyone stood and started to gather their things, but Hana felt it best to slip out after them. She finally shuffled down the aisle and out the door before the driver pulled away from the curb.

Immediately someone shoved into her shoulder. "Hey!" she hollered after him to no effect. It was going to be one of those days, wasn't it.

Hana wandered from shop to shop, not exactly sure what she was looking for. All she really wanted was to get out of the house for a while.

A window display of flowered dresses drew her into a small boutique. The lady behind the counter looked up from a magazine. "Welcome in," she called. "Shoe sale this weekend. Buy one pair, get the second pair half off."

"Thanks," said Hana, already working her way to the back of the shop. A rack of long ruffled skirts caught her eye and she spent a couple minutes sifting through them.

Just as she thought to leave, a voice sailed over the store. "HANA!"

Hana whirled in the direction of her name, not knowing what to expect. Near the entrance, waving frantically, was Maron of all people. Krillin brought up the rear, already carrying several hours' worth of shopping.

Hana waved back and met them halfway. "Maron, Krillin! How funny to run into you guys."

"Hey, Hana," said Krillin. He looked even shorter than usual under all the boxes and bags. "What're you up to? Aren't you tutoring Gohan anymore?"

"Oh, yeah, I still am. Chi-Chi gave me the day off to relax, so I just decided to take the bus into town and do whatever."

Maron pried open one of the bags hanging on Krillin's arm and pulled out a teeny little bathing suit in glittery gold. "One of the stores up the street is doing a sale on swimsuits and I bought like six of them. You should go get a few. It's only gonna get hotter."

"I don't really swim that much," said Hana, purposefully not commenting on the risqué cut of the bathing suit.

"But don't you live by the beach?" Krillin asked. "I could've sworn Bulma said something like that."

Hana laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, I just don't get the time, though. And I've never really found a swimsuit that looks good on me."

That was the wrong thing to say. Maron suddenly got a very serious look on her face, her glossy pink lips tightening into a frown. "No way! I know just the style for you—c'mon!" And she grabbed Hana by the crook of her arm. Krillin hurried after them.

They raced across the street and into a busy shop filled with excited teenage girls. Surely, Hana thought, there couldn't be anything suitable for her in such a place. The looks all seemed much too young, much too flashy, but Maron found them a dressing room.

By the time they were finished, Krillin had fallen asleep on the bags he carried.

"You see?" said Maron, tugging the snug fabric at Hana's middle. Hana, completely red-faced, stared at herself in the dressing room's full-length mirror. Maron either didn't know personal boundaries existed or simply didn't care—she'd made it her mission to help wrestle Hana into several different bathing suits before they discovered the perfect fit. "The pattern cinches in your waistline and the attached skirt accentuates your hips. It's more girly than sexy, but I think it works for you."

Hana had to admit it looked nice. And it fit like a second skin. "It's…really pretty."

"Let's show Krillin!" Maron squealed, shoving Hana out through the curtain. Krillin snapped awake. The moment he caught a proper glimpse of Hana, his cheeks went pink. "What do you think, sweetie? Isn't she cute?"

"O-oh, wow." Krillin coughed. "I mean, yes. V-very cute."

Hana tried to pull the skirt down to cover more of her thighs. "Thanks."

Maron folded her arms proudly over her chest, admiring her choice. "And Krillin sweetie…don't you think someone _else_ might also think so?"

Hana looked between the two of them, noting their amused grins. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Oh come now," Maron said, "like it wasn't totally obvious at Mr. Roshi's party that you and Piccolo have a thing going on."

"A _thing_?" Hana yanked even more desperately at the skirt. "It's really not like that. We both teach Gohan so we've kinda become friends. That's it."

Krillin leaned back in his chair, eyeing Hana with a smirk. "I dunno, I've known Piccolo for years and I've never seen him in such close contact with anyone except Gohan, and that's only because the kid's like a son to him."

"Your guys' faces were almost touching when me and Krillin interrupted you," Maron added.

That couldn't have been true. Hana searched her memory of that night. He'd made the dress for her. She put her hand on his knee and…he was starting to say something, wasn't he? She tried to remember the proximity of his voice—"N-no way," said Hana. "No way on earth."

"Well," said Maron, "I guess we'll find out eventually. Just make sure he sees you in this swimsuit at some point. Don't tug up the neckline so much either, you gotta show off the girls a little."

Hana made a big to-do of rolling her eyes. "Okay, I'm thoroughly embarrassed now. I'm gonna change back into my jeans." And she marched back into the dressing room and tried her best to slam the curtain.

.

* * *

.

The setting sun shone in Krillin's eyes and he pulled down the visor. In the back seat, surrounded by dozens of bags and boxes, Maron had fallen sound asleep. And Hana clutched her single shopping bag in her lap and watched the trees go by.

"Thanks for today," she said, softly as not to wake Maron. "Sorry I was kind of a third wheel, though. Hope you didn't mind too much."

Krillin smiled at her without taking his eyes off the road. "Oh no, don't worry about it. Me and Maron see each other almost every day. Besides, this was fun."

Hana returned his smile and nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"And thank you for indulging Maron. I know she's really young and she can be…lively. But she doesn't have very many girlfriends to go shopping and trying stuff on with, so I know she had a good time helping you out."

Hana peered back at the girl. "Aw, it's fine, Maron's sweet. Let her know I'll go shopping with her any day. Well, any day I have free, that is." She played a little with the tissue paper wrapped around her new swimsuit. "To be honest, I don't have a lot of friends either. Not very good at making them, I guess."

"Could've fooled me," Krillin said.

Warmth spread over Hana's still-smiling face. "Well, thanks."

The air car turned down her street just in time for the street lights to come on. She directed Krillin to her house and grabbed up her purse, getting ready to disembark. As they pulled to the curb, however, Krillin pointed and said, "Hana, look."

There on the front porch, sitting just to the left of the door, was Piccolo.

A cold sweat broke out on Hana's neck. "Oh my god. What is he doing? Is he meditating?"

Krillin went silent for a moment. "Actually, going off his ki, I'd say he's asleep."

"What?" Hana opened the door and started to get out with her things. "I appreciate the ride, Krillin. I should go see what he needs."

"You want me to stick around?"

"Nah, it's all right, you take Maron home. G'night, Krillin." She shut the car door, waved goodbye, and watched until the lights turned the corner and disappeared.

The porch stairs creaked under her feet but Piccolo didn't budge. Even when she gently jostled him he remained fast asleep. Hana knelt down and leaned in towards his ear, catching a hint of his natural scent. Something like chai tea and fresh linen. She lingered there overlong, just taking him in, appreciating the nearness of him.

"Piccolo."

His eyelids slowly lifted. "Mmn." A heavy breath left his lungs. "You're home."

"I am." Right away she could tell something was off. The exhaustion in his voice accentuated the tired circles beneath his eyes. " How long have you been waiting here?"

"Not sure." Piccolo rose to his feet with significant effort.

Hana bit her lip. Under the porch light he seemed pale and sweaty. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Yeah."

She put down her bags and started unlocking the door. "You can come in. If you want. Have a mug of hot water." It was difficult not to drag him inside and make him rest on the sofa, but she didn't want to scare him off again. Didn't want to overstep any boundaries. Didn't want him further irritated with her.

Piccolo didn't move. "No. I just…want to say something and then I'll go."

Butterflies crowded into Hana's stomach. Why did he always have to be so intense? Would it kill him to just sit inside and chat like a normal person? Then again, nothing about him was normal. She supposed that was part of his appeal.

He cleared his throat. "I, uh, never meant to—that night at Roshi's—when I left, I didn't think—fuck, I practiced this." Reaching up, he removed his turban and wrung it in his hands. "Listen, I know I screwed up. If I give you a free shot can we call it even? Try being friends again?"

Hana opened her mouth and then, baffled, closed it. "A free shot?"

He nodded and dropped to his knees, fixing her with a solemn glare. "Right here." He pointed to his face. "Go on. I deserve it for upsetting you. For leaving you behind. Just everything. So go ahead. Right in the nose if you want."

Hana curled her fingers around her keys. Studied the fist she made. Looked to Piccolo. "You…want me to hit you?"

"Yes."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious."

The butterflies reached her heart and filled her lungs, her throat, her head. She didn't know how to play this. Couldn't concentrate. He kept staring at her expectantly, urging her on. The keys dug into the flesh of her palm.

Hana pulled her elbow back. "Here goes nothing..."

Her knuckles connected with the bridge of his nose.

"OW!" Piccolo clamped hands over his face, eyes watering. "You actually went for it! Ahhh…that really smarts."

Hana yelped. "Oh my god! I'm sorry!"

"It's fine," Piccolo moaned, sniffling. "I asked you to. I just…didn't think you'd actually punch me right in the nose."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "What a terrible idea. Telling me to hit you."

"Did it make up for what I did? Do you feel better at least?"

"No! I feel worse!"

"Well, damn."

Hana wriggled her fingers. Her whole hand was going to be a bruise tomorrow, she just knew it. "I've never punched anyone before. Not in my whole life. Ow…"

"Here." Piccolo cocooned her hand inside both of his. Heat grew between them, soaking her sore bones in healing warmth. Hana softened her brow. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself in his arms and get warm all over, but she knew better than to try. He let go of her and she tested his handiwork. "So…this didn't go well," he said.

"No kidding. No more of this crazy stuff, all right? We're even, whatever."

"Friends?"

"Yes, friends. Of course. I don't want it any other way."

"Good to hear." He nursed the bridge of his nose and wiped a bit of purple blood from his upper lip. "Gohan was right, though."

Hana eyed him curiously.

"About your ki," he said, getting to his feet. "He told me your ki was putting out all this bad energy. There's a pretty decent amount of it, too. That's probably how you broke my nose."

"I actually broke it?!" Hana was less impressed with herself and more mortified that she'd injured him so badly.

"I'm a fast healer, it's fine. But more importantly, I can help you shape that energy into something more beneficial. If you want, I mean. I sense a lot of untapped potential in your ki."

Hana started laughing. She picked up her purse and bag. "I don't have untapped potential, Piccolo," she said. "I've seen you and Gohan fight. I can't do anything like that. I'm just a girl, just a regular girl. I've got two weeks' worth of dishes in the sink. There's hardly a thing left in the pantry. I'm like forty pounds overweight and just got talked into buying a swimsuit because Maron said I should wear it in front of the guy I like, like how sad is that."

Piccolo lost some color. "The guy you like—?"

"So I'm just sort of done. With today. I'll see you at the Son house tomorrow, though, right? Gohan really misses you."

Piccolo watched her open the front door. "But—Hana, wait—"

"Oh, one more thing." She kissed the tip of her finger and touched it gingerly to his nose. He went cross-eyed for a second, shocked speechless, blushing up to his ears. "Sorry again for…that. Good night, Piccolo." And before he could recover, Hana closed the door behind her.

.

* * *

.

My absolutely heartfelt thanks to everyone who came back to keep reading. I'm so very sorry about the wait...I know it's been months and months. I got inspired again and I'm eager to continue writing this story until November, which is National Novel Writing Month. I'll be taking a break then to write a different story. But then I'll return in December!

And to new readers...welcome welcome! I hope this fic isn't as rambling and incoherent as I sometimes think it is, haha. It's a lot of fun to write, though, so I hope it's just as fun to read.

Again, thanks so much for reading. I'll try to be better at updating. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Bulma wouldn't stop cackling. She had tears in her eyes and had to stop pouring the orange juice into the champagne. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But I would've given _anything_ to see his face after you punched him. I bet he wasn't even expecting that you'd do it! That's the thing about men, you gotta call them on their bluffs." She reclined in her chair and called out to Yamcha who was doing one-handed push-ups out by the pool. "Isn't that right, honey?"

"You got it, babe!"

Bulma turned back to Hana. "He doesn't even know what we're talking about."

Hana sighed with an amused resignation. "What do you think I should do, though? Now he wants to train me."

"Of course he does," Bulma snorted. She resumed her juice pouring and slid her guest another full glass. "It's always training with these boys. Every last one of them. I suppose the only way to get any time alone with them _would_ be to start training too. Figures."

Hana sipped her drink and thought. Bulma had a good point. One-on-one lessons with Piccolo wasn't exactly a bad thing, even if his efforts to train her would be wasted.

"In any case," Bulma continued, "you should take him up on his offer. I mean you wanna get closer to him, right? With Piccolo, I doubt there's a better method."

Hana smudged a bit of lipgloss from the rim of her glass. "I just think he's going to end up disappointed, that's all. I'm really not sure I've got any latent power for him to work with."

"Well, you might surprise yourself."

"Maybe."

Yamcha jumped up to his feet and grabbed a towel off the back of a poolside chair. "Whatcha girls talking about?" he asked, mopping the sweat from his brow and neck. He came over to kiss the top of Bulma's head.

"I'm just giving Hana some relationship advice."

He made a face. "Ew. I'm gonna grab a beer."

"And take a shower while you're at it," Bulma said to him as he left.

Hana watched Yamcha trek back across the finely-manicured grass and into the great domed house. When Bulma invited her over for mimosas she had no idea her host was actually Bulma _Briefs_, a member of the wealthiest family in the city and possibly the world. The sprawling compound boasted a hotel-sized pool, a full bar, landscaped putting greens, exquisite flower gardens, high-tech lab facilities, and of course the house was enormous. There was another spherical building off by the gardens, and just as Hana noticed it the door lifted open and a grouchy-looking man with tall dark hair made his exit.

"Vegeta!" Bulma hollered. The man scowled in their direction but came over just the same. He was breathing hard and sweating buckets, no doubt having just finished some training regimen of his own. "Vegeta, this is Hana. Hana, Vegeta."

If it hadn't been for Bulma's Namek stories, Hana would've screamed. Here he was, one of the invading Saiyans from television, in the flesh. He seemed different somehow. His resting expression wasn't quite as cold as before. Maybe Earth had been good to him. "Hi, good morning," Hana said, reaching out for a handshake.

He just stared at her.

"Sorry," said Bulma, "Hana, this is _jerkface_."

Vegeta crossed his arms. "Getting drunk before noon is a great look for you, woman."

Bulma narrowed her eyes at him. "_Some_one just talked their way out of a mimosa."

Suddenly Vegeta turned his sneer to Hana and shoved a finger at her. "Wait a second. Hana. I remember that name. Baldie and his little girlfriend were here the other day and I could swear you were the topic of some rather scintillating gossip."

"Be nice, Vegeta," Bulma warned.

"What?" he said in mock innocence. "I was only going to segue into a comment about the pitiable taste in men you Earth women have. Lousy Kakarot has that shrew wife of his, you're chasing after Yamcha for some unfathomable reason, Krillin's girl could do a thousand times better without trying, and now this mousy librarian wants to bed the Namek. Unbelievable." He shook his head and laughed under his breath.

Hana wished she had some of Piccolo's training already under her belt. "It's…not even like that," she managed to spit out, heat rising in her cheeks. Was everyone and their dog going to find out about her feelings for Piccolo before he did?

Bulma got to her feet. In her heels she had at least a good three inches on Vegeta. "You're acting like the prince of all dicks," she said. "You almost sound jealous."

"Jealous? Ha!" He swiped her mimosa and downed it in one quick gulp. A visible cringe of disgust crawled across his skin. "Ugh, must everything on this planet taste like sewage?" He tossed the glass over his shoulder and into the pool.

"Hey!" Bulma grabbed a fistful of his sweaty shirt and got up in his face. "Get that outta my pool. Right. Now."

For a minute there Hana feared Vegeta would attack, but after a lengthy battle of glares he backed down with an indifferent snort. "Fine. I could use a dip anyway." And he dove into the pool and settled to the bottom. When he came up again, he was holding two halves of the glass. "It broke."

"Is that all the pieces?" Bulma asked, taking them. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

Bulma fit the two shards together and seemed content that he was telling the truth. "All right, come on out."

"I'll get out when I damn well please, woman." Vegeta stubbornly treaded water. He was just shy of the shallow end but his toes couldn't touch. "It just…happens to be now." He hoisted himself over the edge of the pool. His snug training clothes clung to him even tighter now as he made a puddle by Bulma's shoes.

"Do me a favor and dry off before you go inside," she said.

"Fine, fine." Vegeta huffed in irritation. Before either woman could think to stop him, he peeled off his shirt and pants.

"AH!" Hana covered her eyes and started howling with laughter. "It's not even lunchtime and I've already seen a stranger's penis!"

Bulma looked absolutely livid but her pink cheeks and half-giggled words betrayed her. "Vegeta, just go! Go inside! And for Kami's sake don't sit on anything until you're dressed!"

Vegeta marched off towards the house with his head held high. "Enjoy the show," he shouted back at them. Against her better judgment Hana snuck a peek at his ass as he paraded away. Bulma was peeking too.

"I'm so sorry about him," she said.

"He's certainly a character." Hana got the last of the funnies out of her system and finished her mimosa. "By the way, when he was going on about our poor taste in men that would've been the perfect time to announce your crush on him."

Bulma's eyes narrowed at Hana this time. "I'll have you know I'm almost thirty years old. I don't get 'crushes' on anyone."

"I'm not hearing a denial…"

"All right, so what if I do?! You saw him just now, he's so fiery and unpredictable and he's got abs I wanna wash my panties on."

"That ass isn't half bad either."

They looked at each other and busted out laughing again. Hana couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard. She also couldn't remember the last time she'd been so tipsy. How many drinks had she had…?

Bulma wiped a tear from her eye and checked her watch. "Uh-oh, don't you have to go teach Gohan in an hour?"

"Oh, crap, the bus." Hana rushed to stand up, which was a big mistake. Her legs refused to hold her and she plopped back down in her seat. "Woah. Did I really get drunk?"

The bottle of champagne was nearly empty. They'd managed to polish it all off in just under two hours. "Forget the bus," said Bulma. "I've got a few drivers on stand-by. I'll have one of them take you over to the Son house, no worries. In the meantime, maybe I should get you something to eat."

And so minutes later Hana found herself in the Briefs' spacious kitchen, sitting like a blob on a barstool, eating crackers and some fancy cheese she'd never heard of.

"So sorry," said Bulma, pouring her a small cup of ice water. "I should've remembered you were a cheap date. Sometimes I forget I'm a bit of a lush and not everyone can keep up with me."

"It's cool," Hana said. She was already feeling slightly less drunk with some food in her belly. The last thing she wanted was for Gohan to see her like this. Or worse, Chi-Chi. After a few more crackers she turned to her host. "Hey Bulma…in all seriousness, what do you think I should do…y'know, about Piccolo?"

"Go for it," she replied without missing a beat. "Do the training. You're just gonna regret it if you don't."

"True…"

"And if you're worried about disappointing him, don't be. Piccolo worked magic with Gohan. He definitely seems to have a way of getting the results he wants."

Hana shoved some more cheese into her mouth. Just what kind of results was Piccolo after exactly? The thought sent her champagne-addled mind racing and it was all she could think of until Bulma's driver arrived.

.

* * *

.

Pulling up at the Son House no more than three minutes late, Hana staggered out of the car and thanked the driver. The front door opened before she could even knock. Chi-Chi had her cooking apron on and wore a stressed expression. "Oh, Hana," she said, "I've been trying to call you all morning."

"You have?" Hana checked her phone. "I'm so sorry, I never switched it off silent when I woke up. What's going on?"

Chi-Chi clasped her hands together. "Gohan's come down with the flu and I've got him confined to bed today. Since you're here you can come in and say hello, but I don't think he'll be up for lessons today, the poor thing."

Hana followed her inside. The house was so dark and quiet, the polar opposite of where she'd just been. She didn't mind it, though. The lack of light helped alleviate the steady pounding building behind her eyes. Was she getting hung over already? She really was a lightweight…

The door to Gohan's bedroom was slightly ajar and she peered inside. The boy lay with his back to the door, bundled so deep in blankets she barely saw his mop of black hair. "Gohan," she whispered, walking in. He stirred and rolled over. "Hey, kiddo. Your mom said you're sick. How do you feel?"

"Not great." He sounded awful, like grating sandpaper. "Are you…still gonna teach me?"

"No, not today. Your mom wants you to rest. And I agree."

"Darn…" He coughed and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. After a quick drink he said, "Can I ask a favor, Miss Hana?"

"Of course."

"Did you bring the history book? I was hoping to read ahead…"

Hana smiled. Even sick like this, he was still so eager to learn. If asked, she would never claim a favorite student from over the years, but in this moment Hana knew for sure it was Gohan. "It's in my bag, but let's save it for when you're feeling better."

"Pleeeeease?" He looked up at her with those big eyes. "Mom's not letting me do anything. I'm sooooo bored..."

His pleading finally got to her and she pulled the hefty textbook from her backpack. "Fine, but keep it out of sight. I don't wanna get in trouble with your mom, okay?"

Gohan excitedly shoved it under his pillow. "Thanks, Miss Hana." He laid down again and yanked the covers to his chin. "I think I'm gonna sleep now."

"Good idea. I'll let you nap." By the time Hana zippered up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the boy had started to nod off. She resisted the urge to plant a little kiss on his forehead. She didn't want to wake him.

Leaving the door open a crack, Hana went to the kitchen to see if Chi-Chi needed any help. "Oh no," the woman said, "I'm just making some soup for later. Tell you what, though, I've got some bedsheets hanging out back that are probably dry by now, if you don't mind folding them for me."

"Sure thing!" Hana left her stuff and went to the backyard. Crisp white sheets billowed in the afternoon breeze, straining the clothespins keeping them on the line. She gathered the fabric between her fingers and squeezed. Seemed dry. She spent the better part of a half hour unpinning the bedsheets and fighting to fold them into respectable squares to lay neatly into the laundry basket.

Hana gave the last folded sheet a pat and went to lift the basket. Something white fluttered in her peripheral vision. Did she miss one?

When she looked, it was gone. She turned back. Now the basket was gone.

"Need a hand?"

Hana whirled on her heel and saw him. "Jeez, Piccolo," she said, putting a hand to her chest, "you scared me."

"Sorry." He shrugged, the laundry basket under one of his bulky arms. His demeanor had improved somewhat from the last time she'd seen him, she thought. A weariness still hung about him, however, and his eyes were tired. "Where do you need this?"

"Just by the back door is fine."

Piccolo set it down for her. "So is Gohan all right? Usually you two are hard at work right about now."

"He's sick," said Hana. "Poor kid's trying to sleep it off."

"Sick?" Piccolo's brow lifted in surprise. "Must be quite the bug to infect a half-Saiyajin. Maybe I should wait to see him."

"I thought you didn't get sick," said Hana.

"I didn't think Gohan got sick either. Guess there's a first time for everything."

"Guess so."

Piccolo rubbed idly at the bridge of his nose. Hana noticed how well he had healed. There wasn't even a bruise, if he had bruised at all. Craning her neck to look at him made her head throb even harder. She must've let it show because Piccolo leaned in to see her more closely. "You're not sick too, are you?" he asked.

"No, uh…just a headache."

Piccolo extended his hand and his canteen materialized from nothing. "It's getting hotter out lately. You need to stay hydrated."

"Thanks." She pulled the cork with a audible _pop_ and brought the bottle to her lips. The water was cool and tasted fresh. She imagined Piccolo flying high into the mountains and refilling his canteen from the icy streams. Just what did he do with his free time, anyway? With a wipe of her mouth, she tried to give the water back.

"Keep it," he said. "Drink it all. It'll help."

Hana clutched the canteen to her heart. "That's sweet of you." He started to turn away, but she reached out and nabbed a pinch of his cape. "Hey, um. Since I'm free this afternoon and the weather's nice I was thinking I might go for a walk. Do you…wanna come with me?"

A bit of color appeared on Piccolo's ears. "Come with you?"

"Yeah. I won't go far, just down along the river a ways."

Piccolo seemed at a loss, and it occurred to Hana then that perhaps he'd never been invited on a walk before. Then again, why go for a walk when you can fly? Suddenly she just felt stupid for asking and was about to let him off the hook when he cleared his throat and said, "S-sure. I'll go."

If it weren't for the hangover, Hana would've leapt for joy.

.

* * *

.

They walked side by side, Hana by the edge of the river and Piccolo struggling to slow himself to match her natural pace. The canteen was nearly empty and they hadn't even gone a mile yet. "Hey Piccolo, can I ask you something kinda personal?" said Hana.

"I suppose."

"How did you and Gohan end up so close?"

Piccolo smiled as if recalling a fond memory. "His father died." Hana started to say something but he cut her off. "I know, I know, but it was an honorable death. And in the long run, it's difficult to feel much remorse for what happened. After he was killed, I took Gohan into the wilds and trained him for a year."

"But—wh-why would do you that?"

"You know why." He grew serious again. "You saw most of their attack on television."

Hana bit her lip. "The Saiyans." She fiddled with the canteen's cork. "Y'know, Bulma told me you died for Gohan once. Was it during that fight? After the news cameras were taken out?"

"Yes."

Hana hoped he wouldn't tell her how it happened. She wasn't sure she could handle it. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said anything, but—"

"No, it's all right, I don't mind." His voice was a little gentler now. "I have no regrets about the choice I made."

She grinned up at him. "You really love Gohan, don't you?"

The tops of his ears went purpleish again and he refused to answer.

The lull in the conversation gave Hana the opportunity she was waiting for. She stopped in her tracks. "Listen, Piccolo…about what you said the other night." He came to stand beside her, towering over her. Sometimes she forgot just how big he was, and just how small she felt around him. "If you really want to train me, I'd be okay with that. I'm just not exactly sure what it is I'm gonna be able to do. And I don't want you to waste your time on me."

"It wouldn't be a waste," he said. "Not with you."

Her eyes misted over at his sudden sincerity. Did he have any idea what he did to her when he spoke like that?

"We can start your training today," he graciously continued.

Hana blinked away tears and scratched the back of her neck. "You mean right now?" She'd dressed for a leisurely morning at Bulma's, not an afternoon spent getting her butt kicked. "But Piccolo, I'm not—"

"It won't be anything intense just yet. We'll start out slow with some meditation."

"Oh…okay, yeah." She'd never attempted to meditate before, but she was willing to try.

They came to a grassy spot beneath a great shady willow. Piccolo hefted the cape off his shoulders and removed his turban. His antennae bounced right back into position as if they'd never been smashed up against his forehead. "Come sit here," he said, taking a seat cross-legged on the grass. Hana sat a respectable distance away, wanting to give him some space, but he patted the earth behind him. "Here. Back to back."

Hana hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"It'll work best like this."

She moved and settled in against his broad torso.

"Now," said Piccolo, his voice vibrating through her, "close your eyes and find a good resting position for your arms." He crossed his over his chest as usual. Hana let her arms hang and she clasped her hands together in her lap.

"Got it," she said.

"From this moment on, I want you to listen to the river. Allow it to guide your thoughts astray. Follow where it leads. The point is not to void yourself of thought but to allow your consciousness the freedom to explore."

With the echo of his voice still in her head, Hana focused on the sound of the rushing water. She tried to block out everything else—the birds chirping, the wind in the branches, the thumping of her heart, the pain in her temples. She felt the muscles of his back expand and contract with each slow, even breath. How was this positioning meant to help her focus? He might as well have asked her to meditate as he slowly undressed.

"No, no, you're breathing too fast," he said. "Match my speed."

"I-I'll try." Piccolo's rhythm never faltered. For a long while Hana breathed along with him, her eyes drawing closed.

Eventually her limbs felt heavy, her head light, as if the two halves of her body were being drawn in opposite directions. A deep calm enveloped her then. All she could hear was the river. All she could feel was Piccolo's steady breathing. She relaxed into the warmth of his skin. He was so comfortable…

"Hey," Piccolo said. He gave her a nudge with his elbow.

"Mm?" Hana rubbed her eyes. She was still leaning on him.

"You fell asleep."

"What?"

An amused sound grunted out of him. "It's been nearly an hour since we began."

"Woah! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's fine. You needed it, apparently."

Hana let her head fall back between his shoulder blades. "Was I snoring?"

"A little."

She grumbled with embarrassment.

Piccolo shifted against her and started to stand up. He brushed the grass from his gi, held out his hand. Hana took it and he hoisted her onto her feet. "Sorry meditation was kind of a bust," she said. "I should've known I would suck at it."

"On the contrary. You matched my breathing and were able to calm your mind. Your calm went…a bit too far. But it's something to work on for next time."

"Next time?" Hana looked up at him in disbelief. "You mean you still wanna train me after this?"

"What? Yes. Of course."

Maybe it was the remnants of dreams still clinging to her. Maybe she was still a touch drunk. Whatever the excuse, she wrapped her arms snugly around his middle in a grateful hug, pressing her cheek just below his sternum. Piccolo went stiff, his arms held out awkwardly at his sides. Hana could hear his heart pounding away in his ribs. Was he…nervous?

"Hana…what're you…" He gulped, face burning.

She let go of him. He'd broken out in a visible sweat. "Sorry! I don't know what got into me. I…I won't do it again."

Piccolo averted his eyes and went to gather up his cape and turban. "We'll, uh…we'll pick this up again soon. I have training of my own I need to—"

"No, wait." Hana grabbed him by the wrist to keep him back. Not forcefully, just enough to get his attention. "Please. Please don't disappear again. You can walk with me back to the Son house."

She feared he would shake her off anyway, but he adjusted the turban on his head and took a deep breath. Some of his normal color returned, though he still wouldn't meet her gaze. "If that's what you want," he said. "All right, let's go."

.

* * *

.

Gohan woke to the sound of talking just outside. He slowly rolled out of bed and walked to the open window with the quilts draped around him like a cloak. There they were, his two teachers, strolling into the back yard and having a pleasant chat. He even saw Hana laughing. "Oh good," he said with a sigh. "They made up after all."

Hana reached the back door and smiled over her shoulder at Piccolo before entering. Gohan heard the door close behind her. Piccolo stared at the space she'd occupied seconds earlier, his stoic expression entirely unreadable.

"Mr. Piccolo," Gohan called, motioning him over.

His teacher seemed surprised to hear his name. "Gohan?" He came over to the window. "Kid, you're supposed to be asleep."

"I know, I know, but hey. You apologized to Miss Hana, didn't you?"

"Something like that," Piccolo said. He swiped errantly at his nose.

"I figured. She's a lot happier today."

Piccolo's eyes wandered to the back door again. "She is."

"So…have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?"

Gohan smacked his forehead in disbelief. "That you like her, of course!"

"That's none of your business," Piccolo said, grimacing at the accusation. "And keep your voice down. You should be in bed."

"You probably likes you back, y'know."

Piccolo jabbed a furious finger in the direction of Gohan's bed. "Sleep. Now."

Giggling at his master's flustered state, Gohan high-tailed it back to bed and curled up like a burrito in his quilts. "You're coming back to keep training me once I get better, right?"

"I am." Piccolo closed the window most of the way to keep the breeze out. "So hurry up and recover already."

Gohan smiled. "Yes, sir."

As soon as he was content that the boy was sleeping, or at least pretending to sleep, Piccolo turned and hiked over to the peach tree on the hill. And there he sat, eyes fixed on the back door, hoping Hana would come outside before the afternoon was over. Just once more. Just long enough to see her smile again.

.

* * *

.

_WOW! I still can't believe all the incredibly kind reviews I've gotten since I posted the new update. I was honestly thinking no one would care since it had been so long since the last chapter. You guys are so great. DBZ fans are the absolute best fans on the planet, no doubt. I'm incredibly touched, thank you SO much._

_This chapter came out later than anticipated because-shocker!-I got the flu. Gohan must've given it to me. :P Anyway, I'm already hard at work on the next chapter so I hope it'll be up in the next week!_

_Thanks again!  
_


	9. Chapter 9

The persistent _click-clack_ of that familiar staff against stone tile drove Piccolo right out of his mental training. He squinted at the approaching old man and growled under his breath. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You come to Kami's Lookout and wonder why Kami shows up." The elder Namek grinned to himself and shook his head with a tut-tut. "Really Piccolo, if you wanted absolute solitude there are plenty of other places to go. There's no shame in simply admitting you'd like a bit of company."

Piccolo was on his feet now. "That's not why I—I don't need _company_."

"If you insist." Kami continued down the tiled path but stopped beneath one of the tall palm trees. He looked up, shielding his gaze from the sun. "It's a nice day though, isn't it? Shouldn't you be with Gohan today?"

"He's still sick apparently. I thought he was fine yesterday but that mom of his…" Piccolo kicked at the floor. "Four days of missed training now."

Kami had a knowing glint in his eye. "And yet you've spent most of that time here. Isn't there perhaps someone _else_ who you should be training? Someone of the female persuasion?"

"Would you quit your spying already?"

"Piccolo, with the two of us linked as precariously as we are, it would be negligent of me _not_ to keep a close eye on you. Besides, as I said before—" He pointed to himself. "God."

"Whatever." Piccolo turned to hide just how much he was blushing. He hated when Kami played around like this. One would think the guardian of the earth might take things a little more seriously. "And for your information, no, I was letting Hana have a break for now. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Ah, I see." Kami sat on an ironwork bench and propped up his walking stick, looking fondly at the younger Namek. "You go awfully soft on her, don't you?"

Piccolo stiffened. He didn't like this line of questioning. "What's your point?"

"I'm only saying, if Gohan had dozed off during training you'd have raked him across the coals. Even with as much as you love him, you never went easy on him. But it's interesting to me that this girl gets handled with care. I wonder why that is?"

Piccolo winced at the old man's words. "Would you get lost already." When he realized Kami was still smiling and not going anywhere anytime soon, he slumped with defeat and went to take a seat beside him. He rubbed his anxious hands together, head hung. "Look…I don't get it either, all right? I do consider her a friend. I do. And yet I can't treat her the same as Gohan. It doesn't make sense to me."

"You've never felt this way about anyone before, have you?" Kami dialed back his teasing tone, adopting something a touch more paternal. It wasn't like Piccolo to air his grievances, especially with him. He wondered if perhaps Nail's subtle guiding influence was responsible for these recent changes. He decided not to ask and make things worse.

"No," Piccolo said, burying his face in his palms. "No, I haven't."

"Have you tried meditating on these feelings?"

At that, Piccolo actually laughed—a bitter, exhausted sound. "Tried, yes, but in case you haven't noticed, I've been sort of distracted lately."

Kami heaved a lengthy sigh and gave the other man's knee a pat. "Tell me, do you care for this girl?"

"I…" A hundred glimpses of her flooded his mind, the same glimpses he saw whenever he closed his eyes. Her breath on his injured skin. The way her face lit up when she saw the dress he'd made. Listening to her sleep peacefully against his back. He shook his head, baffled at the words taking shape on his tongue. "I do. Care for her. Yes."

"And you care for Gohan."

"You know I do."

Kami was quiet for a moment. "Piccolo…are you familiar with different types of love?"

"What—why?" A fierce blush spread across his cheeks and ears. "I know about love, you asshole. Human culture is saturated in it."

"I'm merely curious if you're familiar with _romantic_ love."

Piccolo glared at him. "You think I'm in love—_romantically_—with Hana?"

"Or at the very least, you're on your way."

"No, no, no." Getting to his feet again, Piccolo started pacing the tiles. "Until Gohan, I never even considered that I could feel _any_ amount of love for _any_thing. And now you—you're going to sit there and tell me I'm _falling in love_. What am I going to do, ask her to marry me someday? Start a family like Goku and Chi-Chi?"

"Well why not? If you love each other—"

"Love _each other_?" Piccolo barked. "She doesn't love me. She wouldn't. Don't you get it? None of this matters. It's all I can think about and it's completely meaningless."

Kami gripped his walking stick and stood, letting it carry most of his weight. "You know, if you allow people the chance to surprise you, sometimes they will."

"And just what does that mean?"

"It means stop being so damn stubborn and let her know how you feel already."

Piccolo let go of a nervous gasp of air. Trying to explain all this to himself was difficult enough, but explaining it to Kami? To Hana? Walking up a waterfall would be simpler.

"At least go and see her today," Kami continued. "I think you'll be glad you did."

Piccolo stared the old man down. In spite of his frustrations, he knew better than to disregard such a obvious shove in the right direction. "Fine. But quit watching me."

"I can't make any promises."

.

* * *

.

The blue beach house greeted Piccolo as he landed just shy of the front porch. He checked the sky. The sun was beginning to set. Neighbors had lights shining from their kitchens, bedrooms, living rooms. Hana's house was dark and quiet. He tried ringing the doorbell once, then twice. No answer. Gohan was still sick with the flu, so there was no reason for her to be at the Son's. Maybe she was out with friends? What did women like to do? He shook the thought from his head and went to the window by the door.

Just a quick peek, he told himself. Don't be nosy.

Her purse was still sitting there on the coffee table. Would she have left without it? Suddenly he felt knots in his stomach. Something wasn't right.

He flew around to the back of the house, searching the shoreline for any sign of her. Perhaps she'd simply gone out for a run and would return shortly. But that didn't seem like Hana. He touched down on the back porch and tried the sliding glass door. The latch gave way to his thumb. He was in.

It was wrong, he knew. A breach of trust. Illegal, too, most likely. At the moment there was something more important to contend with.

The living room was a familiar scene. He noticed the new lamp by the couch and felt guilty all over again. If he concentrated, he could recall the worry in her voice when she asked if he was hurt. His skin went warm at the memory. "Hana?" he called, listening intently for a reply. Nothing.

He spied the hallway she'd vanished into that night. Her bedroom must have been that way. Taking slow, silent steps, he crossed the length of the hall and found the bedroom door open. He just wanted to see her bed. See where she laid her head at the end of the day.

Instead, he saw her. _All_ of her. The sheets pooled off the side of the mattress, and there lay Hana, dressed in only a modest pair of underwear, arm resting across her stomach.

Piccolo threw his hands over his mouth and forced himself out into the hall. He pressed his shoulder blades against the hall closet door, reeling from the sight. He knew more or less what a human female body was meant to look like. His ignorance of humans wasn't _that_ profound. He'd seen women paraded on billboards and television in nothing but their underclothes or bathing suits. He was all too familiar with their general shape. But to actually see everything so blatantly, so unexpectedly…that was a different story. His heart was still pounding. He was beginning to wonder if the knots in his stomach would ever go away.

The worst part was the dreadful, disgusting thought that he wouldn't mind seeing her that way a second time. What the hell was wrong with him…

The sound of heavy coughing drew his attention back to the bedroom. "Hana?" He'd said it without thinking.

There was silence for a minute and then, barely audible, "Who's there?"

"It's…it's Piccolo."

He heard the shifting of sheets but the reply he hoped for never came. He peered into the room for a second time. She'd managed to mostly cover herself and then had apparently fallen asleep again. Her face glistened oddly in the fading sunlight coming through the curtains. Piccolo moved cautiously to her side, tugging the bedsheets to cover her better. His fingers brushed her arm. She was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The room wasn't terribly warm, though. He rested his knuckles on her forehead and frowned.

Her eyes, those big brown eyes, fluttered open and settled on his face. "Piccolo," she said, her lips drawing up in a smile. "I thought I dreamed that I heard your voice."

"No, I'm really here."

"Not to be rude…but why are you in my house? Did I invite you…? I don't remember."

Piccolo squirmed for a moment under her inquisitive stare. "N-no, actually. I just came to see you and, well, when I got here I felt like you were in trouble. And the back door was open and—" He made fists at his side. "I apologize. It wasn't my place to enter uninvited."

Hana laughed a little before coughing some more. "It's cool. I'm happy you're here, but I'm okay."

Piccolo snorted. "You're not okay, you're sick."

She nodded, closed her eyes again. "All right, you got me. I think I caught it from Gohan. Don't tell him. I don't want him to feel bad." Her voice was hardly above a whisper. "Chi-Chi said she would call when he was better…but I guess he's still sick too."

"Yeah."

Piccolo watched the sheets rise and fall with her breathing, painfully aware of her shape underneath. He swallowed. "Do you…need anything?"

"Some ice water would be nice. Thank you, Piccolo."

He blushed, thankful her eyes were shut. "S-sure, I'll be right back."

The daylight was all but gone now, and the kitchen was covered in shadows. Piccolo reached along the wall until his finger hit the light switch. His eyes adjusted to the florescent lighting. Where would cups be stored? He started opening cupboards at random. Pots and pans. Bowls and plates. Spices and medicines. He grabbed one of the small boxes marked "cold &amp; flu" and wondered if Hana could use it.

At last he found cups and got some ice water from the fridge. When he returned to the room he was surprised to see Hana sitting on the side of the bed in a pair of loose pants and a sweatshirt. "Here," he said, handing off the water and the medicine.

"You're the best." She took a couple pills and gripped the cup, shivering. "Think my fever's coming back. This flu is no joke. You probably…shouldn't hang around me much."

"I'll be fine, remember?" Piccolo watched as she left the water on the nightstand and crawled back under the blankets.

"Ah," said Hana, "that's right. You're too big and strong and handsome to get sick."

Her words brought color to his ears. It was just the fever talking, he reminded himself.

"Can you do me another favor?" she asked. "There's a comforter in the closet…"

Piccolo removed it from the top shelf and started to unfold it. "Should I just—" He stopped short, noticing just how badly she was shaking. With a hurried unfurling, he draped the plush comforter over the curled-up lump she'd made of herself.

"My hero," she said, nestling her fever-blotched face into the pillow. Piccolo stood there silently until he heard her begin to lightly snore. Should he stay? Surely she needed help as she recuperated. Had she really been holed up in this house for days with no one to care for her? How did she manage it? An ache settled in his chest at the thought.

He went to the bedroom window, drawing the curtains a bit tighter. A grouping of small framed photos on the dresser caught his eye. He saw an older couple at the beach—her parents most likely. A younger man in a graduation cap and gown—a brother? The third photo was of Hana and a different man. They were dressed up nicely and grinning from ear to ear, at a party perhaps, and the man had his arm around her waist.

Piccolo remembered being offered the clothes of an ex-boyfriend…so this was him. He frowned at the man's chiseled features, a quiet anger slowly mounting. It was an odd feeling, one he didn't quite understand or like. He backed away and left the bedroom, but not before pausing in the doorframe to look at Hana. She hadn't moved an inch since falling asleep.

Gohan was made of stern stuff and half a Saiyan as well, so Piccolo hadn't been terribly concerned for him these past few days. But humans were fragile creatures, so easily injured, so easily killed. Seeing Hana in this state made him worry. He couldn't help it.

The doorbell rang and Piccolo froze. Knocking followed.

Against every shred of judgment he had, he trudged into the living room and opened the door. Three eyes stared back at him, shining in the porch light.

"Tien."

Tien recoiled, unable to keep the shock from his face. "P-Piccolo?"

Piccolo furrowed his brow. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same." Tien tried looking past Piccolo's broad shoulders to see the house within. "Where's Hana?"

"Sleeping. She's sick."

"Oh." Tien seemed discouraged and started fiddling with one of the fasteners on his silk shirt. Piccolo noticed. The muscles in his jaw clenched unconsciously. Why was Tien so dressed up?

"Perhaps you should come back another time," said Piccolo.

"Piccolo?" came a faint voice from behind him. "Who's at the door?"

Piccolo whirled to see Hana pulling a robe over her shoulders as she approached. "Oh, uh. Tien."

Hana slipped past him to greet Tien. "Hey, long time no see," she said. "Come in, I'll make some tea." She headed to the kitchen as Tien awkwardly shuffled inside under Piccolo's steely glare.

"Hana, are you sure you shouldn't be lying down perhaps?" Piccolo asked.

"Yes," Tien chimed in, "I'd hate to see you go to all this trouble if you're not feeling well."

She put on the kettle and turned to them with a smile. "Honestly, you guys, I'll be fine. The meds'll kick in soon and my fever will go down. I was kinda tired of lounging around in bed anyway." She placed three mugs on the counter and put tea bags in two of them. "How do you like your tea, Tien?"

Tien's third eye darted to Piccolo for a second. "Um, just black please."

"You got it."

Hana stood by the kettle, warming her hands over the stove. Piccolo didn't like this. She should have been in bed, not playing hostess. And he found Tien's presence especially irritating. He couldn't remember ever having much of an issue with the man before, so what was this? Why was it taking so much willpower not to forcibly shove him out of the house?

The kettle whistled and Piccolo flinched and covered his ears until Hana lifted it off the burner. She poured the boiling water into the three mugs. "Would you like something in your water?" she asked Piccolo. "Honey? Lemon?"

"Oh, uh. Lemon. Please."

Hana fixed up their mugs and brought them to the table. "Sit, sit," she said. She wrapped her hands snugly around her mug and breathed in the steam. Piccolo could see she was still trembling from the fever. "It's nice to have some company over. Makes me feel a little better."

"Just don't overdo it," Piccolo said pointedly.

"Yes," Tien agreed. "Don't stay up on our account."

Hana waved off their concern. "Really, guys, it's fine." As soon as the words left her mouth she started coughing into the sleeve of her robe. Piccolo and Tien made a move towards her, but she put up her hand and caught her breath. "Quit acting like I'm gonna fall down dead, you two. I'm okay."

Piccolo realized he was tensing every muscle in his shoulders. He made an effort to relax himself but couldn't seem to manage it. Hana wasn't well. As hard as she was trying to assuage their worry, he could see right through her.

Hana took a lengthy sip of her tea. "So what brings you over, Tien? Were you coming to check up on me?"

"He didn't know you were sick," Piccolo said pointedly.

Tien blushed. "It's true. I'm sorry. I was actually—well—" He rubbed a finger around the rim of the mug. "Chiaotzu entered into a martial arts tournament and I just thought…maybe…I could take you. I-If you wanted to go watch, that is."

Piccolo dropped his mug on the table harder than he meant. So this was Tien's purpose for being there? He ground his back teeth together, his tension returning in full force. "Excuse me," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll let the two of you have this conversation. I need some fresh air."

Hana's weary eyes followed him as he stood. "Oh," she said. "All right, no worries." Piccolo wished she wouldn't look at him that way, with something like subtle disappointment in her smile. He turned from the table and left through the back door.

The sun had set by now, and the moon was close to full and high in the sky. Piccolo relished the cool evening breeze on his skin. From the height of the back porch he could see out across the ocean. Hana certainly had quite a view.

For a while he leaned against the railing, doing his best to ignore the muffled voices from inside. They were speaking so softly that even with his excellent hearing it proved difficult to eavesdrop. Not that he _wanted_ to eavesdrop. He knew what was happening anyway. Hana was in there, accepting Tien's offer. And why wouldn't she? They _had_ been dancing together at Master Roshi's party, after all.

He let go of the railing. He'd left splintered indents from his fingers. "Idiot," he scolded himself. "Stupid, sentimental idiot." It was time to leave. It had been time to leave long before he even entered the house.

Hoisting himself over the edge, Piccolo leapt from the porch and down onto the sand. He felt like a walk. It was a good night for a long, self-pitying walk. His feet led him to the water's edge. He followed the coastline, his gaze cast outwards at the sea's horizon, and he left the blue house far, far behind.

"Piccolo!"

That voice. He spun around. "Hana." She was still down the beach a ways, running towards him, kicking up sand with her bare feet. "Hana! Stop!" He closed the distance between them as fast as possible. What was she doing?

Piccolo grabbed her by the arms as he reached her. Even through the robe he could tell she was burning up.

"Are you crazy, Hana? What the hell were you thinking? Where's Tien?! How could he let you—"

"He left already," said Hana, panting. "I…I let him down easy."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told him…all of my free time was yours. That you were training me now. I think…he understood…"

Piccolo was at a loss. "I wasn't planning on demanding so much of your time as that," he said. "If you want to go with Tien, you can."

Hana just smiled and shook her head. "I don't. Not with him." She coughed again, and this time she couldn't catch her breath as easily. Piccolo could hear the wheezing sound in her chest. "Ohh…running was a mistake…" Her legs buckled, but he caught her before she hit the sand.

"Hana? Are you all right? Hana?!" She didn't respond and her fever showed no signs of retreat. Was the medicine not working? Piccolo gripped her close, his mind racing with worse-case scenarios. What did she need? Was she dying? Should he take her to the hospital? The emergency room?

Then it dawned on him. He knew exactly where to take her. He'd never hear the end of it, but there was no other choice.

With her snug and secure in his arms, he pushed off into the night sky.

.

* * *

.

_So I've got the next six days to try and complete another chapter before I'm gonna get swamped by NaNoWriMo. I'm gonna try REALLY HARD to finish chapter 10 before Nov. 1st. Wish me luck! _

_My continued thanks for reading, as always! Seeing all the reviews from you guys is really heartening, and I'm grateful for every single reader. 3_

_And before I forget, I actually drew a picture of Hana in the dress Piccolo made for her at Roshi's party - check my profile page for the link! (I had previously tried to post it here, but I forgot you can't add links to stories - oops!)  
_


	10. Chapter 10

"Hana…"

Warm fingers curling around her own. Rough, vaguely familiar.

"I'm not certain if you can hear me. Guess it doesn't matter."

Silence for a while. The fingers squeeze.

"Just…get well. I don't like seeing you this way." The voice breaks. Struggles. "Please…"

.

* * *

.

Hana woke slowly, half-dreamt words echoing in her head, a lingering warmth in the tips of her fingers. In those early blissful moments before opening her eyes she thought she was still at home. But when she sat up and blinked away the last remnants of sleep, the bedroom came into focus. And it definitely wasn't hers.

The room was bathed in white. Plush white bedsheets, white carpeting, white silk wallpaper that shimmered in the sunlight. White billowing curtains framed the open windows. Hana slipped out of bed and slid her feet into a pair of white slippers. She wriggled her toes. Wherever she was, they sure didn't skimp on quality.

As she stood she noticed the long white nightgown hanging from her in heavy layers. Her fingers explored the fabric, impressed with the craftsmanship. Her eyes narrowed. Why was she wearing this? Why was she _here_? What was this place, anyway?

Hana went to the window and leaned out to get a better view. Except there _was_ no better view. Sky and clouds stretched out in every direction, and that included downwards. "What the hell…?" She stared hard but couldn't see anything resembling ground, only more clouds.

All the white made her nervous now. The last thing she remembered was chasing Piccolo down the beach. Did something happen? Did she…die? Was this the afterlife? She took a deep breath, focused on the sensation of air filling her lungs. She certainly didn't _feel_ dead. Everything felt pretty normal. She actually felt better than ever.

Turning from the window, she caught a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror. All the color had returned to her skin. Her eyes were bright again. Even her hair seemed clean and silky. She twirled, watching the nightgown come alive as it spun.

If she was dead, she decided, so be it. At least she looked great.

Hana smiled to herself and walked through the archway that served as the door. It was time to figure out what was really going on. The corridors were spacious and decorated with ornate potted plants and flowers of every color and genus. She passed golden statues of benevolent-looking hooded figures, painted masks of smiling beasts with oversized fangs, woven tapestries of ancient battles. Hana touched the small beings depicted there, trying to make sense of what she saw.

"Excuse me, miss," said a deep voice.

Hana jumped. It was a stout little man with pointed ears and obsidian skin wearing a crisp white turban.

"My name is Mr. Popo," he said, bowing to her. Hana returned the polite gesture. "If you could please follow me, there is someone who would like to know you are awake and well."

She kept a respectable distance behind him as he led the way. The corridor came to an end, opening out onto a grand circular platform of glittering stone tile. Lofty palm trees were planted in two rows to line a pathway, and at the far end of the pathway stood a tall figure with green skin dressed in white and navy blue.

"Piccolo?" she called, running past Mr. Popo in her excitement. But then the being turned around. He certainly looked like Piccolo, but his face was darker green and creased with age. Hana skidded to a halt. She saw the symbol written on the front of his robes.

_Kami_.

Everything fell into place. Of course. This was Kami's Lookout, the home of Earth's guardian himself. The palace of God.

Hana sunk to the floor and pressed her forehead to the tiles. "Kami-sama," she gasped, "it's an honor."

The _click-clack_ of his walking stick grew closer until his form covered her in shadow. "You may stand," he said. Hana got up but didn't meet his eyes. "I must say, I haven't been addressed that formally in decades. Almost forgot what it felt like. Well look at me, young lady, you needn't avert your gaze."

She didn't feel worthy of it, but she obeyed him. He had a kind, weathered face. And he was smiling at her. God was smiling at _her_.

Mr. Popo approached them. "She was already awake when I went to check on her, Kami."

"Ah," said Kami, "the poor girl must have been quite confused when she woke. I take it things are clearer to you now, dear?"

Hana nodded. "Yes, somewhat. I never thought I would ever see the Lookout for myself. It's beautiful."

"We have Mr. Popo to thank for that," Kami said, motioning to the small round man. Mr. Popo beamed with pride. "He's been taking care of the Lookout for centuries. If it were only me up here I'm afraid this place would be in ruins and I'd be in rags."

"Oh, Kami," said Mr. Popo with a chuckle.

Hana let herself relax. She'd always heard stories that painted Kami in such a serious light, but he seemed like a sweet old man to her.

Kami put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Now then, you're probably curious about why you're here. What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was on the beach. Piccolo was there." She shook her head, trying to recall something else. A voice perhaps. Hushed words spoken in earnest. A touch. But it was all fuzzy. "Nothing after that, though. Was he the one who brought me here?"

"He was."

Hana felt happiness like a warm blanket enveloping her.

"You were very sick when you arrived," Kami continued. "In fact Piccolo feared you were dying."

"He was so worried," Mr. Popo chimed in. "I've never seen him look so pale."

"The situation was nowhere close to as dire as he imagined," Kami chuckled, "and thankfully I had just the right restorative elixir to give you. You've been resting for nearly two days, though, sleeping off the remainder of your illness."

Hana bit her lip. "Two days…" She wasn't accustomed to losing time like that. It was a strange thing to grasp.

"Take as long as you need to process what I've told you," said Kami. "Why don't you join the two of us for a late supper in the meantime? You must be starving."

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. She felt her cheeks go pink.

Kami laughed and took her arm in his. "I think I shall take that as a yes."

.

* * *

.

Hana let the spoon drop into the empty bowl. Warm soup was exactly what she needed. And the dining room was so small and cozy, lit by a roaring fire behind them. Mr. Popo came to clear her dishes away and refill her water glass. "Thank you so much for this," she told him. "I feel much better now."

"That's wonderful to hear, miss!"

Now that she wasn't inhaling her dinner, she noticed Kami also had a bowl of soup in front of him. She knew admittedly very little about Nameks, but at the very least she'd learned from Piccolo that they don't eat food, and so before she could stop herself the question was already leaving her lips. "Forgive me if this is offensive, Kami-sama, but you're a Namek just like Piccolo, right?"

He lowered the spoon from his mouth. "I am, yes."

"Well, it's just that Piccolo once told me his race only drinks water. Is that not true?"

"Water is all we require for sustenance, that much is true," he said, "but we _can_ eat for pleasure if we slowly acclimate ourselves to it. I've been eating Mr. Popo's cooking ever since I became Kami, so I'm quite used to the practice now. It doesn't surprise me though to hear that Piccolo still only consumes water. I can't imagine he's had many chances to eat a human meal."

Hana frowned into her glass. "Yeah, he certainly doesn't let himself get close to anyone," she said.

Kami started grinning. "Keep trying," he said. "You're closer than you think."

She lifted her eyes to his knowing expression. What exactly did he mean by that? Had Piccolo been speaking with him about—no, no, she wouldn't let herself get her hopes up. As if Piccolo would share his feelings with anyone. She felt silly for even thinking it.

After supper, Kami led Hana around the palace and gave her the grand tour. He even allowed her to sit in his throne, though it took several minutes of good-natured persuasion on his part. Hana simply couldn't believe she was hanging out with the guardian of the entire planet. The way he spoke to her…he was like a wizened grandfather and a childhood friend somehow rolled into one person. She'd never met his equal.

They stopped in front of a mural painted in the long hallway behind the throne room. "This tells the story of each Kami's ascent," he explained. "Each of us had to complete a very personal trial, and those trials are displayed here so that the next Kami may learn from our ordeal."

Hana followed the mural down the hallway until she spotted the tiny man painted green. Red and blue surrounded him like an aura, and in the next scene he was split into two beings—one red and one blue. The blue stood on the Lookout like a shining beacon. The red, twisted and nearly shapeless, descended to Earth.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"The Kami before me realized that I had conflicting emotions in my heart. I was both good and evil, and if I did not cast out the evil in myself I would never be worthy. So I separated my body into two physically identical beings, one to house the good, the other to house the evil."

Hana touched her fingertips to the red paint. "So if you're the good part, what happened to the bad part? Where did he go?"

"To earth." Kami's voice deepened with the ache of regret. "He killed so many people. I didn't realize the evil in me had been that profound. But in the end he was dealt with. Goku, in fact, defeated him. Only a boy at the time but already so powerful."

"So your evil self died then?"

A sad smile twitched on Kami's mouth. "No, just repackaged. You see, he called himself King Piccolo. And when he was killed, he created a son to continue his work."

The breath stuck in Hana's throat as her heart sunk into her stomach. No. That couldn't be true. "Wait, you mean Piccolo is…?"

Kami nodded gravely.

Piccolo…the son of a creature comprised of pure evil. She stared at the red smudge of paint as her vision blurred over. "That's awful," she said. What sort of childhood must that have been? What sort of _life_? She looked desperately to Kami. "Why would you tell me this?"

"Because it's just as much my story to tell as his, and because I think it will help you understand him a little better." At that, he grinned at her again. "Now dry your eyes. Piccolo has come a long way since the circumstances of his birth, and he's made incredible strides in just these few short months. Partly your influence, no doubt."

Hana blotted tears from the corners of her eyes. "My influence?"

"KAMI!" a voice bellowed from within the throne room.

"That's Piccolo!" Hana cried, leaving Kami's side. She raced past the length of the mural, losing a slipper as she darted into the next room. Piccolo stood beside the throne with arms crossed. He looked unspeakably furious, but the moment he saw Hana his face softened. She rushed to him, threw her arms around his waist, squeezed him tight. "It's you! You're back!"

Piccolo gripped her shoulders and pushed her away a little. "Hana. You…you look well. How do you feel?"

"Great, actually," she said. "Thanks to you."

Kami entered, carrying Hana's slipper. "Was that shouting necessary, Piccolo?"

"She wasn't in bed. I thought you'd returned her home before it got dark."

"Of course not," Kami said indignantly. "The poor girl needed to eat something, and I knew you'd be coming back to see her after your session with Gohan. How is the boy, anyway?"

"He fine. Hardly rusty at all." Piccolo turned to Hana. "And he wanted me to tell you that he's sorry you got sick. He'll be happy to see you whenever you're up to teaching again."

Hana took her slipper from Kami and held it close. "I feel completely recovered, so I hope he's ready to hit the books tomorrow. We've got some serious catching up to do."

Kami placed a hand on her back. "You're more than welcome to spend tonight here, if you wish. Piccolo or Mr. Popo can take you home in the morning."

"Ohh!" Hana wrung the slipper excitedly. "I'd love to. I've been here for two days but haven't really had much of a chance to appreciate it."

"Well then," Kami said, "I think perhaps Piccolo should finish showing you around."

Piccolo's eyes went wide. "Me?"

"You know the Lookout just as well as I do."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then it's settled." Kami smiled as he looked between them. "Have a nice evening, you two." And he crossed through the rest of the throne room and out the door, the sound of his staff on the tile growing fainter and fainter until it faded away entirely.

Piccolo coughed in the silence and rubbed the back of his neck. Hana slid her foot back into her slipper, adjusted it, looked up at him just in time to catch his eyes on her. "So," she asked, "where should we go?"

.

* * *

.

They sat side by side, Piccolo cross-legged as usual, Hana with her legs stretched out and the hem of her nightgown fluttering around her ankles. He'd brought her to the domed roof of the palace, the tallest peak of it. The roof overlooked the entire grounds and gave a stunning view of the sky above, unhindered by the palm trees below. And with dusk fast approaching, the early pin-prick forms of stars began to shine overhead.

"Hana," Piccolo started to say, but his words faltered. He heaved an irritated sigh.

"What is it?"

"You're…better, right? You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes, of course." She eyeballed him for a second, not exactly following him. "You're not still worried about me, are you?"

"I wasn't…worried. Necessarily."

Hana laughed. "Well that's not what Kami said."

"Kami says a lot of things."

"Mr. Popo said it too."

Piccolo scowled. "Fine. So I was worried. Are you happy?" He pointedly refused to return her stare. There was something so sweet about the way he got huffy when confronted with his own sincerity. He wanted so badly to be perceived as big and mean and tough, and perhaps he had been those things when they first met, but it was clear to her now that it was all for show, just a hard shell covering his gooey insides.

Her fingers found his in the dark and she covered his hand with her own before he could snatch it away. He jolted at the sudden affectionate gesture. "Hana—what—"

"It's okay," she said. "Just sit with me like this for a while."

Piccolo's brow furrowed and his black eyes belied terrible confusion, but he remained quiet and allowed her to touch his hand.

The warmth of him stirred a memory in Hana. A voice, begging her in the dark. The sensation of his fingers around hers as she lay there, semi-conscious. A "please" and then nothing. She smiled to herself. "Hey Piccolo, can I ask you something?"

He seemed apprehensive at the question. "Mm."

"When I was asleep for all that time, I didn't snore, did I?"

A relieved puff of air left his lips. "Not much at first, but then as you began to recover I suppose you were resting more deeply, and then you did, yes."

As if a ray of sunshine had shone directly into her heart, Hana's face blossomed with joy. _Gotcha_.

It took Piccolo a few moments to realize the gravity of what he had said, and when it dawned on him he went rigid and pinky-purple all over. "I mean," he tried to say, "th-that's what Kami told me, anyway. I wouldn't know. I was hardly around. Training Gohan, you know."

But Hana fixed him with such a smile that he couldn't turn away from her. "You really were there," she said. "You were there by my bedside. You held my hand and spoke to me. I just knew I remembered something like that, and I was right."

Piccolo snatched his hand from hers and nursed it as if it were injured. "Well…you were sick. That's what friends do, right? It's not that big of a deal."

Hana just continued to smile. "Sure. All right."

"It's not."

"If you say so."

He sunk into a miserable silence, his cheeks still colored.

Hana reclined and stared up at the blanket of stars covering the sky. "They're so beautiful up here, huh. You can't see them like this in the city. Or anywhere else on earth, I bet."

Piccolo recovered his composure enough to reply. "I thought you might like the view."

"I just wanna fly up there," she said, stretching out her arms. "Do you think I could learn?"

"To fly?" Hana nodded. He chewed on the answer for a moment. "It's…quite a challenging technique. Even Goku didn't learn to fly until he was a young man. I'm not even certain I would be the right person to teach you."

"Oh?"

"Flight comes naturally to me. It's something innate in my species. Trying to explain it may prove too difficult."

"Well that's disappointing. Do you think Tien would—"

"No! I mean—" He hurried to correct himself. "I guess we could still try. Certainly couldn't hurt."

Hana sat up and grinned at him. "You mean it? When do we start?"

Piccolo actually laughed a little at her enthusiasm. Just a quiet, breathy sort of laugh, but Hana treasured it all the same. "Slow down," he said. "You've spirit, yes, but you've only just recovered."

"But I feel great. Even better than before I got sick."

His posture relaxed into a resigned sort of slouch, though the corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. "I suppose you do at that. Why don't we try this somewhere less precarious. Here, hold on."

His arms moved around her and scooped her up off the rooftop, gripping her protectively. Hana clutched him tight and gazed at his face. His profile in the moonlight was like something from a dream, or maybe just a campy romance novel. Either way, she felt like swooning as he leapt from the roof and fell with controlled momentum, her nightgown and his cape unfurling in the chill of the night air.

He landed softly, barely jostling her at all, and let her slip from his arms. Hana did a little pirouette on the smooth tile. Where had all this boundless energy come from? She really needed to ask Kami for more of the elixir he'd treated her with. It was better than coffee.

"And you're certain this is what you want?" he asked.

"Are you kidding me? Of course!" She was ready for this training. No falling asleep halfway through. She was going to do this.

"All right, all right." Piccolo took a deep breath and crackled his knuckles. Hana tried not to stare at his forearms as he did so. "I want you to close your eyes and focus inward, but this isn't going to be like the meditation practice. You're going to feel out the ki inside you, and once you do that, you're going to bring it forward."

Hana swallowed. "My ki? What will it feel like?"

"Can't say. I imagine it's different for each person."

She closed her eyes as instructed. Her skepticism regarding her own ki still lingered in the back of her head. What if there was nothing to locate? What if she was just…empty? For what seemed like minutes and minutes, she concentrated on searching within, wracking her brain for something, anything. At one point she thought she felt a twinge, but it was only an itch on her stomach. Finally she let her eyes draw open in defeat.

"I don't get it," she said. "I still don't understand what I'm supposed to be looking for."

Piccolo considered her situation and appeared lost in thought. Hana bit the inside of her mouth. He must've been regretting his offer to teach her. Even if that probably wasn't true, it was all she could think about as she watched his brow knit with deliberation.

"Perhaps," he began to say, "it would be best to show you. And then you may more easily find it within yourself."

"Show me?"

Piccolo curled fingers around both her wrists, resting his thumbs atop her veins as if taking her pulse. He pressed ever so gently. "I'm going to share a very, _very_ small part of my energy with you. This might be unpleasant. I honestly don't know."

"It's okay."

He hesitated for a second and then his eyes drifted closed. "Are you ready?"

"Mm-hm."

His thumbs bore down harder, not enough to hurt, but still uncomfortable. She was about to say something about it, but suddenly there came the sensation of heat in her wrists, like holding them under a warm faucet. The intensity continued to climb. Hotter and hotter. Now she _really_ wanted to say something.

"Piccolo—you're—_ahhh_!" The concentrated heat went off like a bomb beneath her skin, flooding up her arms, tingling up her neck and down the backs of her thighs and into the very soles of her feet. She arched her spine and writhed in Piccolo's grip. Such ecstasy, such euphoria. She'd never experienced anything that even remotely compared to this rush blazing through her.

His hands released her and Hana opened her eyes. Was it just a trick of the moonlight, or was she shimmering? Was this ki? _Piccolo's_ ki? It felt good inside of her. It felt powerful. Capable.

"Hana? Are you all right?"

She looked up at him. "Can I try it out?"

"What do you mean—"

She didn't even wait to hear his reply. Her knees bent and then she jumped into the air and…flew. Straight up. Straight past the palm trees, up and up. Leaving the Lookout behind. Her speed was unreal. The wind in her eyes made it difficult to see but she kept going. She was going to reach those stars.

"Hana, stop!" Piccolo's voice came from somewhere far below. His words were almost lost on her ears.

Hana didn't want to stop. She was flying! Onwards she rose, so fast now that tears unwittingly streamed from the corners of her eyes. The air was so cold and so thin. But still she didn't stop accelerating.

"HANA!" A near-silent cry.

She reached out for the stars, so close, but just as she did the shimmering on her skin flickered, blinked, and went out.

And then she plummeted.

Piccolo caught her before she fell too far, rattling her back into some semblance of rationality. "Oh my god," she moaned, her head lolling against his chest. "What was that…holy shit…"

"That was my ki."

They descended gradually, a pace Hana was thankful for. A wicked ache pounded behind her eyes and she feared she might vomit before they returned to the Lookout. "It's like I just went crazy," she said, half-mumbled. "Like a fire in my while body…"

"I'm sorry, I should've known it would overwhelm you."

She sighed longingly. "It was incredible…"

Piccolo touched down at the Lookout but still held Hana in his arms. "I'm putting you to bed."

Hana faded in and out of cognizance on her way to the bedroom. By the time her head hit the pillow, though, she'd come around somewhat. Even the throbbing in her skull wasn't so awful as before. She felt the blankets drawing over her and noticed Piccolo still there. "My hero, once again."

He cleared his throat. "Get some sleep. I'll take you back home tomorrow."

"Okay." Hana managed to snatch a handful of his cape as he tried to leave the bedroom. "Wait. Don't go yet."

"Hm?"

"Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep..."

Piccolo glanced around the room, maybe checking to see if Kami was there, and then sat at the edge of the mattress and crossed his arms. "Just until you fall asleep."

Hana smiled. "Thank you. Oh, and Piccolo?"

He regarded her curiously.

"I feel it now." She touched her fingertips just below her breastbone. "My ki…it's right here. I'm not sure how I missed it before…seems so obvious now…"

"That's good," he said.

"But do you think maybe…when I'm more prepared…you could share your ki with me again? It felt so amazing. Like…like nothing else in the world."

"Hana…" Piccolo's eyes widened and an embarrassed flush rose up against his skin. "We'll…we'll see. But for now, rest."

So rest she did, drifting effortlessly to sleep, and Piccolo swore she was still smiling.

.

* * *

.

"I'm very proud of you."

Piccolo froze in his tracks as Kami made himself known. He'd only traveled a few meters from Hana's door. "I'm really not interested, old man."

"Such rudeness after I helped you. Aren't you glad I told you to check up on her at her home?"

Piccolo snorted. "For all I know, you got her sick on purpose so all this could happen."

Kami just laughed. "I'm omnipresent, not omnipotent. Besides, that wouldn't be very nice."

"Whatever."

"In any case," Kami continued, "I am indeed very proud of you for sharing a piece of yourself with the girl. I can't imagine that was an easy thing for you to decide."

Piccolo furrowed his brow. It was, in reality, much easier than he might have anticipated. What did that mean? He frowned. It probably just meant he was careless. And of course he was careless, look at what his ki did to her. She was lucky it didn't fry her completely. How could he have been so frivolous with it?

"She needed to grasp the concept of ki," he said. "That's all it was."

Kami nodded. "Ah. Of course. Well, I won't bother you further. I've said all I needed to tonight." The old man clapped Piccolo on the shoulder and left the hallway, his robes swishing back and forth on the tiled floor as he went.

Piccolo braced himself against the wall and breathed in long and deep. He hadn't lied. He had wanted to help her understand ki, but at the same time he didn't want to admit how thrilling it had been to offer up himself in that way, however small. To feel his energy comingling with her own. And even though it had overwhelmed her senses, she had…enjoyed it. His face burned with shame. Why was he reacting this way?

He focused on her resting ki in the next room, used it as an anchor for his runaway thoughts. For a long time he couldn't bring himself to go. He stood just outside the door. Listened to her even breathing. Fought the urge to return to her side. If he could just sit beside her again…maybe take her hand…

Damn it, was this…yearning? This was all beginning to feel disgustingly human. He couldn't wait for it to stop.

.

* * *

.

_*drags herself in on her hands and knees* I'm so, so sorry this took forever. Between holiday hours at work, a relative in the hospital, and just plain writer's block, this chapter was slow going. I'm excited to start the next chapter, though. Also I remember someone in the reviews suggesting that we see a little more of Hana on her own without the Z-cast, and no worries, there will definitely be some of that coming up. But also lots more Piccolo! Man, he just can't seem to sort himself out, huh? Poor guy._

_And as always, thank you for those continuing to read, and thank you &amp; welcome to those just joining the story! I appreciate all of y'all! _


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